


City boy

by Rowan_M



Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Fluff, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Feels, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Whump, Peter Parker is a Good Bro, Precious Peter Parker, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Protective Tony Stark, Tony Stark Has A Heart
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-02
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2019-10-21 06:10:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17637287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rowan_M/pseuds/Rowan_M
Summary: Trying to get away from it all (namely his enigmatic past), Bucky moves into a small apartment in Queens. He gets to know his neighbours pretty quickly, particularly the scrawny teenager from next-door who seems to remind Bucky of someone.**Basically, Bucky moves in next to Peter and May and becomes a big-brother-figure to Peter.





	1. Chapter 1

The school bell seemed to take days to finally ring. Peter was exhausted from patrolling late last night and was thankful that he’d agreed with May to take tonight off to have one of their Friday night movie nights they used to love so much. 

Peter hurried out of school, doing his best to avoid Flash and jumped on the train home. It took nearly an hour for the train to reach his stop, as the busy Friday rush was paired with a faulty vehicle, as the train would keep sputtering and slowing between stations. 

If was a relief to finally see his apartment building looming closer as he walked home, and Peter was so exhausted he barely noticed the haggard looking man climbing the stairs to the top floor of the building beside him with a large duffel bag on his shoulder and a cardboard box in his arms. Peter’s mind flicked into life as the man turned down the same corridor as Peter. 

Turning around, Peter frowned as he caught a brief glimpse of the man’s face beneath his hat and vaguely recognised the chiselled features, though they were masked by a shaggy beard and long hair. Peter shook off the feeling of recognition when he couldn’t place a name to the face straight away, and merely took out his key and began unlocking the door, as the man with the box did the same at the once-empty apartment down the hall. 

_So, he must be their new neighbour._

Peter knew he should say hello and introduce himself, but he was tired, and his spidey-sense had been bugging him since he entered the building. So, Peter just went into his apartment, threw his bag on the ground and flopped onto the sofa, falling asleep almost immediately.

***

“Hey, Peter!” 

May’s jolly greeting caused Peter to jump, startled awake, and almost fell off the sofa. 

“Oh, I’m sorry, honey! Were you asleep?” May asked as she hung her coat, put down her bags and approached the couch where Peter was laying. 

“It’s fine,” Peter said, rubbing his eyes tiredly as he sat up against the back of the sofa. “How was your day?”

With a smile, May sat back on the sofa next to Peter and began playing with his curls. “Oh, you know. Janet was being a pain again in work, but other than that it was pretty normal. I bumped into our new neighbour on the way up here.”

“Yeah?” Peter asked, suddenly more interested – maybe May would know where he recognised the man from. 

“Yeah, he seems nice,” May said absently as she began placing an online order at their local pizzeria on her phone. “We chatted a bit. He said his name’s James and he’s living on his own. Oh, and he said he’s working at the mechanics, I think the one near the opticians you used to go to.” 

_James?_ That wasn’t ringing any bells in Peter’s head. Maybe he just looked like someone Peter knew. 

“I thought it’d be a good idea if we took him some flowers or something tomorrow as a house warming gift,” May continued. 

For some reason, this made Peter laugh. “I saw him when I came home before, he doesn’t seem like the sort of guy who likes flowers.” 

“Really? I was getting a bit of a gay-vibe from him,” May said. They both giggled. “What do you suggest we get him then?”

“I don’t know,” Peter shrugged, getting up from the sofa to head to the kitchen. “A beard comb? Hair ties?” Peter threw some bread in the toaster. “Something more manly? Beer?”

“I think we’ll stick with flowers,” May laughed. “And stop eating, I literally just ordered pizza.”

 

“I know, but I’m really hungry,” Peter shrugged. 

***

It was too early to be up and about on Saturday morning, but that didn't stop May from dragging Peter to the supermarket. 

Peter was leaning heavily on the shopping cart as he lazily followed May around the store. 

“Oh, I almost forgot,” May announced hurriedly as they strolled down the isle lined with loafs of bread. “We need to get James from next door flowers… and I’m thinking something else as well – I don’t want him to get the wrong idea from the flowers… how about one of those mini gift-boxes of different teas – he looks like he could do with some tea in his life.” Peter was barely listening at this point but stood up straight when he heard his name. “Peter, can you go and find some manly-ish flowers from the little florist’s bit please?”

“Manly flowers,” Peter laughed to himself as he walked off. 

Peter decided that blue would be the most suitable colour, don’t ask why. So he grabbed a medium sized bunch of delicate blue flowers with white ones of the same species mixed in, that he didn’t know the name of and found May again. 

“What?” he asked May when she frowned at the herbal teas in her trolley and the flowers in Peter’s hand. 

“It just looks like a self-help hamper; but it’ll have to do,” May shrugged, making Peter laugh. “Let’s go.”

***

Peter rolled his eyes as he left the apartment with the flowers and selection of teas for James. May had insisted that he had to take them in case James thought May was trying to hit on him, despite the fact that May was still convinced he had a ‘gay-vibe’. 

His phone buzzed in his pocket and he stopped in the hallway to check it. It was Tony asking him to bring the suit to the lab tomorrow to do a system fix. Peter smiled and continued down the hall. Hearing from Tony had given him a spark of confidence, and he knocked on the door in the politest knock he could manage. 

His confidence fizzled out however, when he heard movement and the door timidly being opened. 

Maybe it was Tony’s text that had sparked his memory, or maybe it was seeing the man’s face without a baseball cap shadowing his eyes – either way, Peter instantly knew where he remembered the man from. _Leipzig airport._

This was the guy with the metal arm, who Peter now knew was the infamous Winter Soldier. 

As if to confirm his suspicion, Peter glanced at the man’s left hand, and found it covered by a glove, though the sliver of silver visible just below his sleeve gave him away.

The hand was suddenly swiped behind the man's back and he stepped forward in the doorway in a way that should be intimidating, but Peter’s spidey-sense had surprisingly died down since he realised who the man was. 

“What do you want, kid?” The Winter Soldier said gruffly, looking down at Peter with intrigue and annoyance. 

Peter faltered. “Um, I brought some gifts… my aunt got them… we live in the apartment down the hall… uh, it’s flowers and tea…” He handed over the flowers and teas.  
James/the Winter Soldier looked at them suspiciously for a moment, before taking the gifts from Peter’s hands. 

“Thank you… very much,” James/the Winter Soldier replied, looking a little nervous and a lot less intimidating. 

“Um, I’m Peter by the way,” Peter said awkwardly. “And May’s my aunt.”

The man seemed to hesitate for a second. “My names James,” he said at last. 

“Nice to meet you,” Peter nodded. 

“See you around, kid,” James said hurriedly as though he was trying to get rid of Peter. 

Peter took the hint and began back down the hall. The man’s voice from behind him stopped him. “I’m sorry,” James called after him. Peter looked back to see the man standing a little out of the doorway looking hesitant. “Thank you.”

“It’s okay,” Peter shrugged, and continued back to his apartment. 

Once he was home, he shut the door and made a bee-line straight towards his bedroom and started up his computer. He searched ‘The Winter Soldier’ and an ungodly number of articles popped up as results. Scrolling through to look for more recent results, Peter noticed a trend in most of the results from the last two years; most of them were talking about the Sokovia Accords. He selected one published a few months ago from a news website that caught his eye titled, _**Sergeant Barnes pardoned for the Winter Soldier’s crimes.**_

_Following the signing of the New Sokovia Accords earlier this week Sergeant James Barnes, known by most as Bucky, has been recognised as being innocent of the notorious crimes under The Winter Soldier’s name._

_Barnes, along with the other Avengers, signed a revised version of the Sokovia Accords to finally settle their differences and legal issues. Tony Stark along with his legal team have been working tirelessly on improving the accords to fit the needs of all the Avengers as well as the Government. Perhaps one of the most prevalent articles in the New Sokovia Accords is a whole section dedicated to the decriminalisation of Mr Barnes and the recognition that Mr Barnes himself is not in fact The Winter Soldier._

_The article details that Mr Barnes was heavily brainwashed and influenced by the Nazi-started terrorist organisation HYDRA. Mr Barnes was believed to be dead for 72 years, but was found to have been kidnapped and manipulated by HYDRA and turned into the Winter Soldier. Officials have proven that Mr Barnes was not in control of his actions as he’d had his memories wiped and his fundamental nature militarised. The New Accords show an understanding of Barnes and the Winter Soldier being different people in that they have two separate consciousnesses._

_Previously, it required a number of codewords to activate the Winter Soldier instincts in Mr Barnes, but after a few years treatment in Wakanda and by the Avengers’ own medical team, Mr Barnes can now contradict these instincts should the codewords be used. The Avengers’ head medical professional, Dr Helen Cho, has deemed him safe to be out in public._

Peter stopped reading after that. He already knew everything there was to know about the New Sokovia Accords and Mr Barnes pardoning, and this article didn’t mention anything about him moving out of his home with the Avengers.

Clicking off the website, Peter noticed a new article had just popped up and instantly grabbed his attention. It was an online magazine he used to read that focused on the lives of ‘superheroes’, sort of like a celebrity gossip page, but much more interesting. Spider-man had even had a few articles written about him on that page. 

The title was made Peter instantly click on the site. 

_**Bucky Barnes has Reportedly Moved Out of the Avengers Compound, sources state.** _

_Since the ex-soldier was pardoned of the numerous crimes committed by the Winter Soldier over a year ago, James ‘Bucky’ Barnes has been living alongside the newly reformed Avengers in their private compound in upstate New York. However, sources have found out that he recently decided to move out of these living spaces._

_The Avengers Compound was built in 2015 and designed by Tony Stark, who also paid for the building. Though the security is tight and no reporters have ever been allowed in, we know that this facility has a gym, training area, medical bay, admin offices and laboratories as well as living quarters for the Avengers. Since the reformation, almost all the Avengers have been staying there, though some only part time._

_However, an inside source has now let slip that Bucky Barnes, war hero and old friend of Captain Rogers', has decided to leave this residence. No one knows yet why he left, although a few have speculated that he is seeking isolation to recover from the rehabilitation treatment he had to undergo to ensure he was now free of the Winter Soldier's consciousness._

_Whatever his reason for leaving the Compound, his decision should be respected and we urge the public to keep knowledge of his location to themselves unless the situation significantly escalates._

_No word yet from the Avengers about Mr Barnes departure._

The article went on more to explain Steve and Mr Barnes’ history and the New Sokovia Accords. 

Peter sat back from his computer and span in his chair. Obviously James (Bucky) wasn’t a threat, so Peter should just leave it be, but he couldn’t help but wonder why he’d left the compound. 

As if on cue, Peter’s phone buzzed again with a text from Tony prompting him for an answer about tomorrow, since Peter had forgotten to reply to the first. 

“Hey, May?” Peter shouted through his wall. “Can I go to Tony’s tomorrow for a bit?” 

“Of course, honey, just don’t be back too late because you have school on Monday,” May said from the kitchen in reply. 

Smiling, Peter wondered if he should ask Mr Stark about Bucky as he got out his homework and began to power through it so that he could spend his evening with May. 

***

After an early(ish) morning patrol, Peter got back to his apartment and changed, before getting into Happy’s car and riding to the compound, with his suit stuffed in his backpack. Happy was his usual glum, introverted self, so after a few minutes Peter gave up trying to talk to him and resigned himself to playing games on his phone. 

Happy grumbled a short, “Bye, kid,” once they reached the compound, and left him to make his own way to the lab. Peter knew the compound well enough by now to know the best way to get to the lab without bumping into any of the Avengers - which would be awesome, but Tony didn’t want any of them making the link with Peter’s alter-ego by mistake, and so Rhodey was the only one who’d met Peter for now, while the others had just met Spider-man a few times. The elevator took him straight to the lab, and Peter was about to step out when FRIDAY stopping him, having not opened the doors. 

“I’m sorry Mr Parker, but due to the Nosey Avengers Protocol, I must warn you that Captain Rogers is currently talking to the boss in the lab,” FRIDAY told him. “Boss would like you to wait near the elevator in the lab, and out of the sight while he finishes up the conversation.”

This was a first. Tony usually asked not to be disturbed by the other avengers when Peter was due to come around.

“Okay, I’ll try,” Peter answered. The doors opened, and Peter instantly heard raised voices coming from deeper in the lab. The elevator was usually unseen from the far end of the lab, so Peter would be safe from sight if he stayed up this end.

Peter allowed himself a moment to excitedly think to himself, _Oh my God I’m in the same room as Captain America_ , before he composed himself and sat at one of the many workbenches and couldn’t help but listen to the argument taking place across the way. 

“Please, Tony,” Captain Rogers asked, half demanding, half begging. “I just want to know where he is, I want to make sure he’s safe.”

“Steve,” Tony said sternly. “I have told you, I don’t know where he is, I just gave him some money to help him out.”

“But you just said he contacted you,” Steve argued, his voice raising several decibels. 

“Only to tell me that he is settled in and he is doing okay, he didn’t tell me anything else,” Tony replied, staying deliberately calm. 

“But you could find out where he is easily, I know you could,” Steve countered. “I’m his oldest friend, I deserve to know. Please.” He sounded a little heart-broken at that. 

“I’m sorry, Cap,” Tony apologised, sincerely. “I swore to him that I wouldn’t tell you, even if I did know. He wants to do his own thing for once, you just need to leave him be for a little while. And… if you don’t mind me saying, I heard a fair bit of your little argument, and it did not sound like you were each other’s ‘oldest friends’.”

“I didn’t mean to…” Steve began, but cut off with a sigh. 

“Listen, I’d help you if I could, honestly,” Tony said. “But just leave him to cool off for a bit and try to make his own way in the world and I’m sure he’ll reach out again at some point. For now, though, I have a visitor who is probably already here, and I don’t want to keep them waiting.” Peter noticed how he said this a bit louder and took it as a hint to him to get hidden. He jumped silently to the ceiling and hid behind a support pillar. 

Footsteps approached the elevator. 

“You’ll tell me if he contacts you again though, right?” Steve asked hopefully. 

“Only if he wants me to, or if he’d in immediate danger,” Tony said. “And I’ll try to keep the press off of his trail, that article last night was just a slip up and FRIDAY’s already taken the it down.”

“Thank you,” Steve said hesitantly before Peter heard the elevator doors shut.

“Peter?” Tony called into the room once Steve was gone. “You in here?”

Peter crawled out from behind the pillar and dropped down in front of Tony with a small, “Hi.” 

“Jesus, Peter!” Tony gasped as he jumped. “You’re going to give me a heart attack!” 

“Sorry,” Peter giggled. Tony rolled his eyes but pulled the backpack off Peter’s shoulder and fished out the suit, before guiding Peter towards his main workbench. 

“How much of that did you hear?” Tony asked as he began turning the fabric inside out to access the wiring. 

“Only the last bit,” Peter shrugged. “I didn’t hear any names… but you were talking about Bucky Barnes, weren’t you?”

Tony side-eyed Peter suspiciously. “You saw that article last night?” Peter nodded. “Then yes, we were, but don’t go telling anyone what you heard okay?”

Peter nodded again but grew curious. “Do you really not know where he is, or were you just saying that to throw off the Captain?”

“I actually don’t know, he’s only told me that he’s moved into a place and he’s doing fine,” Tony replied, turning back to fiddle with the suit. 

Something in Peter’s mind told him that if Bucky Barnes didn’t want Tony to know where he was living, then it wasn’t up to Peter to say. “Why is Mr Barnes talking to you and not Captain Rogers? I thought they were friends… and I thought you weren’t,” Peter asked.

Tony sighed and frowned at Peter. “I shouldn’t be telling you stuff like this, but since it’s you I’ll ignore your morbid curiosity. So, you’re right, Bucky and Steve are friends and they were pretty close, but they got in a big fight a few weeks ago, and Steve really lost his temper badly. The thing is, Bucky was getting cooped up and paranoid because Steve was following him round like a lost puppy and being a mother hen. So, after the fight Natasha and I agreed that Bucky needed some space; so I offered to lend him some money to find his own place to stay if he wanted to. He left right away and lived in some hotel for a while, but now he says he’s found an apartment and a small job and the freedom is doing him good. I’ve told him that if he wants to come back he can, and he said that if we need him for avengers stuff he won’t mind, but he’s basically retired now.” Tony finished his story and pulled up the schematics of the suit on his computer.

“So… are Mr Barnes and Captain Rogers not friends anymore?” Peter asked.

“It’s more difficult than that, bud,” Tony explained. “They’re the only connection each other has to their lives before the war. I think Steve’s not getting that a lot has happened to  
Bucky since then, and now Bucky has all of his Bucky memories and most of his winter soldier memories back, things are difficult and confusing for him. More so than for Steve, since he was in the ice and it was just like waking up for him. For Bucky, his whole mind got re-wired and he was a completely different person for over seventy years. That tends to mess a guy up..” 

It made sense for Bucky to want space, since Peter had heard Captain Rogers practically beg Tony to tell him where his friend was, he guessed Steve was just obsessively over-protective as Bucky was basically all he had. 

Peter hummed as he thought, thrumming his hand on the table. 

“What are you thinking about?” Tony asked, putting his hand in Peter’s to stop the tapping.

“Nothing,” Peter muttered. 

“Come and help me then,” Tony scoffed and rolled his eyes. Peter smiled and sat next to Tony to work on upgrading the suit.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky encounters Spider-man.  
> Bucky bakes a cake.  
> Bucky and May have a nice chat.
> 
> Basically fluff but it gets a bit deep at the end.

Peter’s next encounter with Bucky was not until a week later, though May had apparently bumped into him a few times after work, and he apparently thanked her profusely for the flowers and tea. 

Not unusually, Peter had been out on patrol after school and had somehow found himself swinging past his old opticians. He suddenly remembered that May said Bucky worked around here and was about to give in to his curiosity to look for a mechanics when a shout and sounds of a struggle came from a little way down the street. His spidey-sense buzzing, Peter propelled forward on a web and landed gracefully on the roof of a nearby shop to spot the struggle. 

A moment later, two figures came barrelling out of a side-street, one chasing the other. 

“Get away from me! He’s trying to take my wallet!” the guy in front shouted as he struggled to get away from the other guy. 

Spidey swung into action and propelled himself into the guy chasing, who was a large man and took more force than expected to topple over. A shout rang from across the street and someone ran towards them. For a second, Peter thought it must be someone else trying to go for the guy getting chased and looked away from the large man to the one running towards them. The moment he looked away, the large man punched him hard across the jaw, knocking Peter to the ground. A foot in a heavy boot collided with Peter’s ribs and knocked the air out of his lungs with painful force. 

Things blurred as another figure rushed the large man and pinned him to the ground, knocking him out with a single punch. Peter’s vision cleared enough to see dark, shoulder-length hair and a shaggy beard, and a glint of silver from his left hand.

Oh shit! That was Bucky Barnes! He just got floored in front of Bucky Barnes! 

Peter had told himself to stay clear of Barnes to not complicate things, especially with Tony, and now he’d gone and messed up as Spider-man right in front of him. 

Shit. He only now realised he hadn’t breathed in since he’d been hit in the ribs, and his lungs and chest were burning. 

“Hey, can you call the cops?” he heard Bucky say somewhere to his right. 

“I saw some down there, I’ll go get them,” a guy, presumably the one Peter had tried to save, said enthusiastically. “Is he okay?” 

“I’ll help him, you get the cops before this punk wakes up,” Bucky said, and suddenly he was in front of Peter and looking at him with concern in his eyes. “Spider-kid? That you? You okay?” 

Peter gasped, trying to reply, but not being able to find the ability to do anything other than open and close his mouth like a fish out of water. He put a hand to his chest in an attempt to show Bucky that he couldn’t breathe. 

“Okay, kid, relax,” Bucky soothed, helping Peter sit up with his flesh arm on his shoulder. “You’re having a panic attack. I need you to take some deep breaths.”

With a pathetic whine, Peter tried to get out of Bucky’s grasp because they’d fought each other last time and he couldn’t be interacting with Bucky and –

“I’m just trying to help,” Bucky said in a deep tone that was almost soothing. He pulled Peter to his feet by hooking his arms under the teen’s armpits, then slid Peter’s arm over his shoulders and pulled the boy towards the other side of the road, where Peter now noticed a mechanic’s. “Let’s get you out of the way before the cops get here.” 

He couldn’t go with Bucky. 

Peter staggered out of the man’s hold easily and rushed down the street. 

“Hey,” he heard Bucky shout after him and then loud footsteps. “I’m just trying to help, kid.” 

But Peter had already webbed himself onto the roof of a nearby building and jumped across others, away from Bucky. 

“Peter, you appear to be having a panic attack,” Karen said in his ear as he slowed to a halt and flopped to the ground, curling into a ball on an unknown rooftop. “Calling Mr Stark.”

“No…. no, no,” Peter managed to say between ragged breaths. 

“What’s up, kid?” Tony’s voice suddenly rang in his ears. Peter didn’t reply, and merely breathed roughly. “Whoa… what’s that? Panic attack?” he asked, sounding worried.   
Peter nodded, even though Tony couldn’t see him. “Y-huh,” Peter breathed.

“Okay, deep breaths kid,” Tony said sounding anxious himself, but masking it well to support his kid. “Hold for five, exhale nice and slow,” Tony soothed. Peter obeyed, and Tony carried on his reassurances until Peter’s breathing and heartbeat were back at a more regular pace. “Do you want me to come and pick you up?” Tony asked gently. 

Though Peter desperately wanted to say yes, merely because he wanted comfort from Tony, but he valiantly declined. “It’s okay... I’m nearly home anyway,” Peter said quietly, and began to gather himself together to head home. 

“You want to tell me what caused that freak out?” Tony coaxed. 

Peter flinched at the phrase ‘freak out’. “It was stupid…” Peter mumbled, feeling much more like a child than he usually did when patrolling as spider-man, which was normally empowering for him. 

“It’s not stupid if it upset you,” Tony said gently. 

Sighing, Peter started gently jogging across the roof and jumped over to another one. “It was… a mugging I tried to stop, but I got distracted and some random guy had to come help me.” 

“See, that’s not stupid. It must have been scary,” Tony reassured him. 

“Not really,” Peter deadpanned. “I’ve dealt with worse.”

“Then why did this cause you to have a panic attack?” Tony asked, slowly and cautiously, as though approaching a stray dog. 

_Because the freaking Winter Soldier came to help me out, who also lives next door to me by the way._ “I don’t know,” Peter said, instead of actually voicing his thoughts. “Like I said it’s stupid.” Peter jumped down to an alley way. 

“Kid, it’s not-” Tony began, but Peter cut him off.

“Oh look, there’s my backpack. Got to go, bye.” Karen took the hint and ended the call over Tony’s reprimands. “Karen, delete all video footage from today as quickly as possible.”

“Can I remind you that Mr Stark will not be happy about this Peter?” Karen asked tentatively. 

“Just do it, Karen.”

***

Bucky stood leaning heavily on the counter top of his pleasant kitchenette, a mess of ingredients scattered in front of him and a tatty worn cook book propped open on a page holding instructions for fruit cake. 

It had been a long hard day - a long hard month really, but today was particularly so. There had been a number of unpleasant and angry customers at the mechanics today, and Bucky struggled to keep back his fragile temper when people were disrespecting him or his boss, who was actually a kind man in his late-fifties called Gerald. A rich businessman had been in yelling at them that the gear stick on his manual that they’d serviced last week was broken, and he did not take it well when Bucky and Gerald pointed out that there was nothing wrong with the stick, so it must be him crunching the gears. It was days like this, stressful days full of disappointment and bitterness, that his more unpleasant memories were most prevalent. 

And so, Bucky was baking. Mainly because it was socially acceptable for men to bake in the 21st century and it was supposedly good for dealing with stress – and boy had Bucky had his fair share of stress lately. It had been a month since he’d moved into his apartment, six weeks since he got his job at the mechanics, and two months since he moved out of the compound. He tried to forget his argument with Steve, considering they were each other’s oldest friends and it was painful to think about how quickly their friendship had crumbled. 

But, Bucky was happy to forget his worries and make himself a nice, homemade cake. Although, he did not know the first thing about baking. He should probably read the instructions. He’d gotten all the ingredients ready.

Step one was to pre-heat the oven and line a cake tin. 

He didn’t own a cake tin. 

It would be easy to give up for today and buy a cake-tin after work tomorrow, he still had a lot of Tony’s money left in his account even after buy a nice apartment and furniture. But Bucky didn’t like the idea of just wallowing in self-pity for the rest of the night. Most stores would be closed by now, but surely his neighbours had a cake tin he could borrow, as long as he washed it and gave it back tomorrow. May, the woman next door, seemed exceptionally nice and friendly, the few times he’d bumped into her, and her nephew – Peter, was it? – had been nice too. They’d surely let him borrow a cake tin. 

Bucky dusted off his hands and pulled on some gloves to hide his metal hand, and headed out of the door and down the hall. He knew he’d tied his hair back in a little bun to keep it out of the way when he baked, and he’d usually wear it down in public to hide his face from praying eyes, but if May didn’t know she was living next to the Winter Soldier by now, then she probably never will.   
He knocked tentatively with his flesh hand and waited as he heard voices from inside. The door opened, and May stood in the threshold. Bucky gave a weak smile. 

“Oh, James. Hi! What can I do for you?” May asked with a pleasant smile.

“Uh… I was wondering if you had a cake tin I could borrow?” Bucky asked hesitantly. Thinking about it, Bucky knew he gave off a thuggish vibe, especially at first glance, so May probably did not expect such a question from him of all people.

May didn’t seem to mind, though, and merely smiled wider. “Of course. We have a few, do you know what size you need?” 

_There are different sizes? Maybe baking wasn’t such a good idea._ “Uh… Im not sure, sorry,” Bucky frowned. “But I’m sure just an average sized one will do?” 

With a sweet laugh, May stepped back into the apartment. “Well, why don’t you step inside while I find you one? There’s no heaters in that hallway and it was a little chilly today.” May didn’t wait for him to reply until she turned from the door towards the kitchen, so Bucky followed her and closed the door behind him. 

Mrs Parker’s apartment was much more well cared for than his own. The kitchen looked well-stocked with food, crockery and cutlery and had a pleasant scent of lavender and candles. The open-plan living area was lit with lamps and was furnished with comfortable chairs and a sofa. On the sofa was a rumple-haired boy sat hunched over, school books scattered over the seat and coffee table. The boy looked up when Bucky stepped in and Bucky recognised him as May’s nephew, Peter. 

“Hey,” Bucky nodded to the boy. 

“Hey,” Peter returned, glancing at Bucky almost curiously, his eyes darting from his hair to his beard to his gloved hands. He seemed suspicious. 

“What are you making?” May asked suddenly from where she was half-way crawled into a cupboard, causing Bucky to turn away from Peter and his suspicious gaze. 

“Just a fruit cake,” Bucky replied with a shrug. “I’ve not really tried baking before, but I thought I’d give it a go.” 

“Oh, wonderful,” May said cheerily. “You know, Peter does his fair share at baking sometimes.” Bucky looked over at the kid on the sofa, who was slouching down even further in the cushions and had   
turned a violent red colour. 

“Oh yeah?” Bucky smiled. There was a noise similar to an animalistic growl from the boy on the sofa. 

“Yeah, he does it when he gets stresses or worked up about stuff,” May said conversationally. “I mean, it’s a good release for all that teenage angst he’s got.”

“Maaayyy,” Peter whined quietly. Bucky laughed in what he hoped was a friendly way. 

“What, Peter?” May protested lightly. “Don’t be embarrassed, your apple pie was amazing last weekend.”

At this point, Peter was lying face down on the sofa and grumbling into a pillow, Bucky couldn’t help but laugh heartily. 

“I hope one of these is okay,” May said as she emerged from the cupboard with several circular tins of varying widths and depths. “Here, why don’t you take a few and see which one looks a good size in comparison to your mixture?”

“Are you sure? Won’t you need them?” Bucky asked. 

May shook her head. “If we want to make something, we can make cookies… or brownies, I have been craving brownies.”

“Thank you so much, Mrs Parker. I can have them clean and deliver them back tomorrow,” Bucky assured her as she handed him three tins of different dimensions. 

“Oh, don’t worry about it, drop them by anytime,” May said with a shrug. “And you can just call me May.” 

Bucky smiled sweetly. “Thanks, May, I really appreciate it,” he said, already backing out of their apartment. 

“No problem, James. Good luck making the cake,” May said as she waved him out the door. 

***

Baking was a lot messier than Bucky had anticipated. He’d collected a stack dirty of mixing bowls, measuring cups, utensils, and, of course, May’s cake tin by the sink.

He took the tin back the following evening after he’d washed it when only Peter was home. The teen had opened the door after his second knock and looked dishevelled, messy hair and crumpled clothes matching his sleepy eyes. As soon as Peter saw it was Bucky at the door, he seemed to perk up a bit and brushed himself down to slightly more presentable. 

“Uh, can I help you?” he asked politely and shyly, though his voice was rough with sleep.

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” Bucky replied kindly. “I came to return this.” He handed over the cake tin he used, along with the others May had let him borrow.

“I wasn’t sleepin’” Peter protested, but then had to stifle a yawn in his sleeve. He accepted the tins as Bucky chuckled. “Thank you. Did your cake turn out okay?”

Bucky smiled at the kid’s friendliness. “It was okay for a first attempt; a little burnt, but edible.” 

“You should have seen it when May and I first started to bake,” Peter said with a little laugh. “It was like eating charcoal. It was fun, though.”

“A friend recommended I start baking when I started living alone," Bucky said conversationally, "as a way to pass time and clear my head.” Said friend was Natasha Romanoff, but Peter didn’t need to know that.

Peter seemed to stiffen a little, the small smile he wore faltered and it didn’t take a highly trained assassin or spy to spot it. The boy shook himself and his smile returned, if not a little dimmer this time. “Thank you for returning the tin,” he all-but mumbled. 

This struck a nerve with Bucky, but instead of mild offence that the boy was hurrying him out, he found himself worried for the boy. He seemed to be hiding something deep behind his friendly facade. 

“Okay, kid. Have a good nap,” Bucky replied cautiously and began heading back down the corridor to his own apartment. 

“Thanks, Mr Barnes,” the kid replied, absently before he shut the door. 

It was not exaggerating to say that Bucky froze. His heart must have stopped for a few seconds, but it’s heavy beat thrummed in his head once again as he spun around and faced the Parker’s closed door. 

“Mr Barnes,” Bucky muttered to himself, as if testing it out on his ears to see if it matched what the kid said. 

He definitely said Barnes. Mr Barnes. The kid knew who he was. 

***

It was Christmas time when the next interaction took place between Peter and Bucky. Unbeknown to Peter, May had taken it upon herself to invite the man round a few days before Christmas.

“It’s a nice gesture,” May insisted as she fretted around the living room, tidying things. “He lives alone and when I asked him, he said he would be spending Christmas alone too unless his situation suddenly changes.”

Peter just hummed in response and cleared his miscellaneous school books off the coffee table. It was a kind gesture to invite their lonesome neighbour around at the festive season, but Bucky was an ex-assassin and could easily figure out the connection to the nerdy kid next door and the Queens based vigilante he fought in Germany. 

It was… risky, and Peter had tried to find any way to not be in the house when May had scheduled to have Bucky round, but she was not having any of it. 

(‘I have decathlon that night,’ Peter explained, somewhat hopefully.  
‘No, you don’t,’ May said plainly. ‘School will be over by then.’  
‘Okay, but I said I was going to Tony’s,’ Peter tired again.   
May shook her head. ‘First of all, that is false. Second of all, there is no excuse out there that will get you out of this. James is a nice guy, there’s no need to be nervous.’)

“Hurry up and put a nicer shirt on, he’ll be here any minute,” May insisted.

“What’s wrong with this shirt?” Peter asked incredulously, gesturing to his t-shirt that said, in big bold letters, ‘The names Bond. Ionic Bond. Taken not shared.’

“Peter I’m not even going to try to answer that, just go put on a proper shirt, please.”

Rolling his eyes, Peter took his stack of school books to his room and changed into a plain shirt and jumper combo. He heard the knock on the door and subsequent friendly greetings while he was finishing taming his curls. Taking a deep breath and rolling his neck to release the kinks, Peter opened the bedroom door and walked to the living room where Bucky and May were already sat talking. 

May smiled up at him encouragingly.

“Hey, Peter,” Bucky smiled warmly, eyes creasing with warm friendliness. 

“Hey,” Peter returned, slowly sitting in a vacant armchair and curling his legs underneath him protectively. 

“How are you doing? How’s school?” Bucky asked conversationally. 

Peter shrugged shyly. “’s okay. Boring, mostly.”

“Peter’s on the academic decathlon team at his school,” May said somewhat proudly. “They won nationals last year and they’re in the running again this year.”

Surprisingly Bucky’s face lit up slightly at this and his interest was perked. “Academic decathlon? You must be a genius.”

“Not quite,” Peter blushed. “I go to a school that specialises in science and tech, so most people there are pretty smart.” 

“No way,” Bucky smiled. “You know, I wanted to be a scientist before I joined the army.”

“You were in the army?” May asked.

Peter didn’t miss the way Bucky froze, and realised he probably hadn’t meant to mention that. 

“Uh, yeah. For a bit,” Bucky mumbled awkwardly. May frowned but didn’t press any further, so Bucky turned back to Peter. “That’s why I became a mechanic – I like engineering but working in the shop is much more relaxed than in some lab or warehouse.” 

After this, Peter and Bucky seemed to find common ground – Peter talked about the new projects and subjects he was doing in school, much to the amazement of Bucky, who put in his own two-pennies here and there. Then the conversation diverged onto biology, and aunt May joined in, chatting about her job as a nurse. 

Peter barely noticed the time passing as the easy conversation continued. He relaxed in his seat and noticed Bucky had done the same, and all tension and anxiety had left his body. 

All three of them were startled as Peter’s phone started vibrating loudly on the coffee table. Picking it up, Peter saw the caller ID and made swift eye contact with May, before excusing himself to take the call. 

“Hey, Tony,” Peter answered as he headed down the hallway.

“Hey, kid,” Tony replied, and Peter would swear he could hear a smile in his voice. “How would you like coming up to the compound tomorrow?”

“That sounds great, I’ll have to check with May, but I’m sure she’ll be fine with it,” Peter smiled.

“Perfect,” Tony replied. “I was also wondering if, while you were here, you wanted to do some training with Steve. It’s just I was talking to him today about you – well, about Spider-man since he doesn’t know you – and he offered to do some training with you since you have similar strength. It could do you some good to learn how to properly spar with someone who can teach you how to use your strength to your advantage and who also wouldn’t cripple after one punch from you.”

Peter hesitated, his mind flashing to Bucky sitting in his living room. 

“Kid you still there?”

“Uh yeah….” Peter breathed after a moment because _Captain America wanted to train with him!_ “That would be … amazing…”

Tony sighed a laugh. “Are you sure you can manage being in the same room as him without exploding into weird fanboy confetti?” 

“I’ll try.”

“Okay, kid. Happy can pick you up at ten tomorrow.”

Peter said goodbye and headed back into the lounge with a small smile on his face.

“Everything okay, sweetie?” May asked as Peter sat down in his chair. 

Nodding, Peter slipped his phone back into his pocket and got more comfortable. “Yeah, can I go to Tony’s tomorrow?”

“Does Tony know it is Christmas Eve tomorrow?” May replied in a less-than-impressed tone. 

“Probably,” Peter shrugged. “Please, May, I won’t be there all day I promise.”

May sighed. “I should hope not. Okay, you can go but I want you back by six so we can have dinner together like a normal family on Christmas eve.”

“Okay, I’m sorry, I promise I wouldn’t go if it wasn’t important,” Peter pleaded. 

“Oh I know, you’re forgiven,” May brushed off, getting up from the sofa to get another drink from the kitchen. “I was just telling James about the Stark internship.” 

Only now did Peter notice Bucky giving him a long, calculating stare. 

“You work with Stark?” Bucky said at last, in the coldest tone he’d used all evening. 

Scratching his neck, Peter fumbled for words. “Uh, yeah, I’m an intern.”

The next silence was a long, suffering one, in which Bucky stared faultlessly at Peter, and Peter looked anywhere but at Bucky. Before, it had been a long-shot for even an ex-assassin to connect the boy next door to the masked vigilante he met in Germany two years ago. Now, Bucky only needed to connect the boy next door who personally interns for Tony Stark to the vigilante who went with Stark to Germany two years ago, and who is often seen with Iron Man. 

“Sounds… interesting,” Bucky replied. “Do you work closely with Stark?” 

“Not really-”

“Yes, he does, actually,” May said as she came back into the room, fresh glass of wine in hand. “He’s Stark’s personal intern.”

Bucky raised his eyebrows. “It must be hard work, especially on top of school.”

Peter just nodded, not bringing himself to talk. Thankfully, May took this opportunity to exaggeratedly complain about how little she saw of her nephew and how ‘school and Stark are working him too hard’.

He tuned out for the rest of the conversation, in favour of mentally debating how likely it would be for Bucky to find out his alter-ego, and also how bad it would be if he did. 

Unfortunately, May mistook Peter’s unnatural silence for fatigue and sent him to bed early while she and Bucky carried on talking for a bit. Peter didn’t protest and lay in bed staring up at the bunk above him while May and Bucky’s hushed voices drifted through the walls. 

“Sorry Peter was acting a little weird just then,” May said apologetically. 

“Don’t worry about it,” Bucky dismissed. “He’s a good kid. At least, he seems like a good kid.”

May sighed. “He is. And he seems to like you.”

There was a pause. “Really?” Bucky asked hesitantly. 

“Yeah,” May replied lightly. “He likes most people really, unless they’ve done him wrong. But he’s always been a little awkward around new people, you know. He had a rough childhood, and I think it left him a little delicate.” 

Huffing indignantly, Peter rolled over violently so his back was towards the door. He is _not_ delicate. 

Peter cursed his super-hearing for letting him listen in while they talked about him. 

“How come?” Bucky questioned. 

May hesitated a little before replying. “Well, I’m sure this must not be the first time you're wondering why a sixteen-year-old lives with his aunt. His parents died in a plane crash when he was really young. They were both scientist and they met at work. My husband, Ben, and I saw them quite often, and we’d look after Peter when they went on business trips. But, when Peter was about five, their plane crashed, and Peter was left with us. He was always an outsider at school, but he was so clever he loved it. Ben and I loved him to pieces, Ben especially was like a second father to him.”

“Where’s Ben now?” Bucky asked quietly, sensing that it was a sensitive topic. 

“He died, almost two years ago now,” May answered sadly. “Ben and Peter had been in an argument, and Peter went outside to get some air. Obviously, Ben went after him and found him outside of some store. They didn’t know this, but there was an armed robbery in the store, and when they tried to help, Ben got shot. He died right in front of Peter.”

Peter buried his head under the covers, but it wasn’t enough to stop him hearing Bucky’s sharp inhale, followed by a long sigh. “That’s rough… I’m sorry that happened to you both, you deserve so much more.”

Sniffling, Peter curled into a ball and tried to imagine Ben’s comforting hand on his back and _not_ Ben's lifeless face as the EMTs took his body away. 

“Thank you,” May responded, before taking a deep inhale and re-composing herself. “Enough about us, tell me about yourself. 

Once again, Peter barely listened to them, but heard Bucky retelling half-truths of his youth in Brooklyn and joining the army at a young age. He told May he spent a few years as a ‘prisoner of war’ in a different country, which Peter guessed was a pseudonym for his time spent brainwashed as the Winter Soldier. Peter could tell Bucky had planned for personal questions – he didn’t falter in his story, but also didn’t out-right lie to May. From what Peter could remember of what he’d read about Bucky’s past, it seemed to match up with the story he was telling. He even went as far as to explain that he’d been living with friends before he moved to Queens after a nasty falling out. 

Peter wondered, not for the first time, how bad Bucky and Steve’s falling out must have been to have these two historically inseparable friends stop talking completely. He remembered when himself and Ned had had an argument about six-months ago after Peter came home from a nasty patrol with a bleeding head-wound and broken arm to find Ned sitting in his bedroom (May having let him in to wait for Peter). Ned had insisted that he called Mr Stark and get medical treatment, but Peter outright refused, wanting to prove to himself and Mr Stark that he can handle injuries on his own and did not need help. They argued for a solid ten minutes before Peter simply climbed back out of his window and sat on the roof, waiting for Ned to leave. Low and behold, five minutes later Mr Stark showed up in the suit and carried Peter off to the compound to have his head stitched and his arm re-set.

Needless to say, Peter had been fuming to find out Ned had contacted Happy and snitched on Peter. On the next day at school, Peter kept his head down and barely made eye contact with Ned, until MJ had grabbed them both and locked them in a store cupboard until they talked it out. 

Peter guessed that locking Captain America and the ex-Winter Soldier in a cupboard would not end with them both crying and hugging it out like had happened with him and Ned. 

Tossing onto his back, Peter sighed and wondered why being an adult seemed so complicated. He fell asleep to the sound of Bucky and May still chatting in the living room and with a feeling of anxious anticipation for his training tomorrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow. 
> 
> It has been a while since the first chapter, i'm sorry. But, it hasn't actually been as long as I expected, so that's good I guess.  
> The bad news is that this chapter is the only thing I have written for this fic so far. So... I've just spontaneously uploaded all the content I have - which is not good. However, this has been sitting on my laptop for ages and I just wanted to post it to get it out of the way. Also, my laptop is being shitty at the moment so I literally can't write anything more right now. So it might be some time before another update, just to warn you. Life is busy right now.   
> Apologies for any mistakes in this chapter, as I said this is a spur-of-the-moment upload so I've barely skimmed it before uploading. I know my tenses went weird at multiple points - I wrote this on and off for about a month so I kind of forgot what I'd previously written whenever i wrote more. I'm very sorry for that.  
> Comments are always much appreciated, i love hearing from you guys.  
> Thank you for reading. I'll see you soon.  
> (If i don't update this fic for a while, then i might be writing a one-shot instead, sorry)


	3. Chapter 3

“Hey, Pete,” Tony greeted as Peter strolled into the lab the next morning. 

“Hey, Tony,” Peter replied, slipping into his usual desk chair and pulling his slightly crumpled suit from his backpack. “When are we training?” 

Tony spun in his own chair to face Peter. “Cap is expecting Spider-man in the training rooms in the next ten minutes. And when you’re done we can eat lunch with the Avengers you want. You can leave the suit on of course.” 

“Sure,” Peter said happily, before strolling over to the bathroom and slipping into his suit. 

As the two of them headed up to the training rooms in the elevator, Tony nudged Peter’s arm and smirked, noticing the boy fidgeting with the hems of his suit. 

“You’ll be fine, kiddo. I’m pretty sure you’re well matched to Cap in strength, plus you have your weird sticky fingers. Also, I promised Cap I’d melt down his shield into cutlery if he hurts you.” 

Peter smiled and seemed to relax slightly. 

“Just to warn you though, kid,” Tony continued more seriously. “He’s not been in the best mood recently. I’m sure having a super human to train with will cheer him up, but he’s really taking Bucky’s leaving hard. We think he thought Bucky would be back by Christmas, but it’s not looking that way right now.” 

“Have they still not spoken?” Peter asked, pretending to not already know. 

Tony huffed a laugh. “Not a word, but that doesn’t stop Steve hassling me every other day about it.”

“Captain Rogers is just upset though, right?” Peter argued politely. “If Ned and I stopped being friends I’d be upset.”

Weaving a hand around Peter’s shoulders, Tony led him out of the elevator and towards the training rooms. “You and Ned wouldn’t argue like that though, your lives aren’t that complicated compared to Barnes and Rogers. They had a lot of … unresolved issues.”

Peter didn’t pry further, thinking that it was definitely not his business. But at the same time, Peter liked the idea of helping those two war heroes rekindle their historic friendship. 

Tony opened the door for Peter and led the way in. Overcome with sudden nerves, Peter shied away behind Tony as he caught a glimpse of Captain America in a fully blue version of his famous suit.

“Hey Cap,” Tony greeted to grab the older man’s attention. “Special delivery.” He pushed Peter forward so he was forced stand in the middle of the large, open training room directly in front of Captain Rogers. 

Casting a worried glance back at a smirking Tony, Peter tried to draw himself up to his full height and not let himself be intimidated by Steve. 

“Good to see you again, Spider-man,” Steve greeted, not bothering with a handshake and going straight of a firm clap on the shoulder. Peter and Steve had only previously encountered each other on-the-job, so there was no first-meeting awkwardness; only the awkwardness of never having to have made small talk before.

“You too, Captain Rogers Sir,” Peter nodded. 

“Good god, save me the embarrassment and start trying to kick each others faces in,” Tony complained in a very Tony-like way. “I’ll be back in a few hours to collect you, Spidey, okay?” 

Peter nodded, but secretly wanted to ask Tony to stay with them. He did not though, and merely watched the door swing shut as his mentor exited. 

“Okay, Spidey, I thought we’d start by testing your strength before we get down to hand-to-hand, just so we both know what we’re dealing with,” Steve said in a way that sounded halfway between a suggestion and an order - Peter supposed that he had lots of practice politely forcing the avengers to do as he says during training. 

Steve led the way across the massive empty room lined with training mats to a set of double doors at the back, which opened into a gym-like area with weights and running machines. He took Peter over to a rack of barbells and heavy looking weight plates. 

It got to the point where Peter was lying on the bench with Steve continually adding weights to the bar to see if Peter could still lift it. Only when all the weights had been added and Peter was barely breaking a sweat did Steve decided it was useless to continue. 

“Well, all I can say is that you’re as strong as me, if not stronger,” Steve said as they put the weights back on the racks and headed back towards the sparring mats.

Surprisingly, Peter held his own pretty well against the Captain. At first, he held back from the offence in favour of his usual defensive tactics, but once Steve reminded him that he was enhanced too and could probably take a hit from Peter, he began to settle into a smooth spar. 

What was also surprising was how frustrated Steve got as Peter improved. When Peter got him pinned the first time, though Peter had been gentle, the man let out a frustrated grunt and kicked the floor with his heal. 

“Sorry, Captain Rogers,” Peter hastened to apologise and help Steve up.

“It’s not you,” Steve said in a glum tone. “I’m getting sloppy. You did good.”

“If this is a bad time I can leave if you like,” Peter suggested with little disappointment. 

But Steve clapped him on the back and shook his head. “No time like the present.” 

Within ten minutes, Peter had landed a solid punch in the man’s gut. Steve gasped on a long breath and hunched over. 

“Are you okay?!” Peter asked in a hurry. 

“I left myself wide open,” the Captain seemed to mutter to himself. Without another word Steve stood up straight and walked towards the benches across the room and sat heavily with his head in his hands. 

Peter was at a loss of what to do. He should probably get help or ask if Cap needed anything. 

“Uh… do you need me to get someone?” Great way to sound like a kid whose friend fell in the playground. “I mean, like, are you okay? Can I get you something?”

Steve shook his head. “I just need a minute. I’m not on top of my game today.”

Hesitating, Peter took a breath before prying further. “Is this something to do with Mr Barnes?” Steve look up sharply with steely eyes. “Uh, it’s just I saw this article a few weeks back that said he left the compound, and uh, I know you were friends with him.”

“I was,” Steve said calmly, looking into the distance as though recalling a distant memory. “I pushed him too hard with his recovery from the winter soldier. I didn’t give him enough space. I lost my temper. And he left.” 

Despite reeling at how easy it was to get Steve to open up, Peter noted the sadness in his voice and the guilt buried in the frown of his brow. 

Peter was unsure whether to pursue the matter any further, but curiosity overruled him. “Have you tried to go after him?”

Steve looked up at him with downcast eyes. “I spent more than two years looking for him last time. If he wanted to stay he wouldn’t have left.”

Admittedly, that was a little obvious to Peter now, but he still couldn’t believe that these two age-old friends were so willing to drop this relationship so quickly. Well, maybe not _willing_ , but it’s not like they were trying to stop it. 

“Maybe, when he’s had some time to think, he’ll want to come back,” Peter suggested with his eyes turned towards the ground. “Mr Barnes doesn’t seem like the kind of person who would want to be found. He will come back of his own accord, in his own time.”

To Peter’s shock, Steve began to laugh, and his shoulders eased of tension. “You sound just like Tony,” he smiled, standing up again and stretching. 

“Is that a compliment? I thought you didn’t like Tony,” Peter said, trying for a joke. 

Steve raised an eyebrow. “You're cheeky, too, just like him,” he returned the joke. “No, I do like Tony, he’s just… chaotic and … impulsive.” 

Peter laughed knowingly, and allowed Steve to lead him back to the training mats. 

Training continued with a lighter atmosphere. Instead of rushing through, Steve paused to fix any of Peter’s mistakes as they sparred (“Spread your legs, keep your balance.” “You have the upper-hand right now, aim for a hit.” “Don’t let your arms go floppy.” “Protect your head, it’s your best weapon.”) When Tony came back to collect Peter, he saw the teen (gently) throw Steve to the mat, obviously winning the fight. 

“Good job, kid,” Steve complimented with a smile, standing up and dusting himself off. 

“Looks like you’re having fun,” Tony commented, clapping Peter on the back. “I’ve ordered some pizza for lunch, it’ll arrive in a few.”

After lunch with the Avengers, for which Peter kept his suit on but rolled the mask up to his nose, Tony returned Peter to his aunt in Queens for them to spend Christmas Eve together. 

Peter actually arrived at the apartment before his aunt, who was working until four, which was lucky for them, since last year she’d had to work the night shift and slept through Christmas day. He wrapped the scented candle, woollen scarf and two books he’d saved up to get his aunt for Christmas with obnoxiously glittery wrapping paper, and switched on the TV to catch the tail end of some Christmas B-movie. May arrived at nearly five and they drank eggnog and ate too much dinner, before curling up asleep together on the sofa. 

***  
(Bucky’s POV)

Bucky hadn’t expected visitors. 

The mechanic shop he worked at was closed from the 24th to the 26th, and Bucky had simply expected to watch TV and get bored, maybe go on a walk in the snow. But he’d exhausted all of these things on Christmas Eve and was left with nothing to do on Christmas day. Christmas hadn’t meant anything to Bucky for over seventy years, but that didn’t take the uncomfortable feeling of being alone when he shouldn’t be. All the Christmas themed TV shows and movies he’d watched over the last few weeks had shown families unwrapping presents and eating dinner, and the ones who didn’t were depressing and were paired with slow music that relied heavily on low voices and string instruments. 

Bucky didn’t feel depressed that he was alone. He merely felt uncomfortable. Some people said that the air felt different on Christmas, that if you woke up and had no idea what the date was, you could tell it was Christmas because of the lightness and fresh taste of the air. Bucky agreed with this, and blamed it for why he felt so uncomfortable.

And so, when a knock cracked on his door as the sun was setting beyond the window, Bucky jumped from his slumped position on his couch. 

When he opened the door, May Parker smiled brightly at him. 

“May,” Bucky greeted pleasantly. 

“James,” May began, the small smile not leaving her face. “We were wondering if you wanted to come round for the evening - if your plans haven’t changed, of course.” 

“Uh, no they’ve not changed,” Bucky said. “Are you sure you want me round?” he asked, not because he didn’t want to, but because when he’d been around the other night, it was clear that family was sacred to May and Peter, even though there was not much of a family left for them. “I don’t want to intrude.” 

“Oh no, James, you couldn’t intrude,” May insisted. “Peter was just saying it was kind of sad to know you’re all alone on Christmas.”

Bucky was shocked. “Really?”

“Yeah,” May nodded. “I think it’s been long enough for us to know you’re not a criminal or anything, and we enjoyed your company the other night.”

 _Not a criminal or anything_ …. Technically. 

“Thank you,” Bucky said sincerely. 

He follows May to their apartment, which is decorated tastefully and smells deliciously of Christmas dinner and gingerbread. Warm lamplight combats the dimming sky outside. Peter sat curled up in the same armchair he sat at the other night. 

“Hey,” Bucky greeted.

“Hey,” he replied, tucking his socked feet under him and sitting up straighter. 

“You want something to eat, James?” May asked from the kitchen. “We have plenty of food left, and Peter made chocolate cookies and gingerbread.”

Bucky was about to refuse, but decided it was more polite to accept ( and he was starving after only having eaten a sandwich today). May brought through a large plate of cookies and a can of beer for Bucky. 

“Help yourself, Peter, you’re probably hungry again by now anyway,” May said as she sat down on the other side of the couch to Bucky. 

Peter’s cheeks reddened with embarrassment, but his hand sneaked forward and snatched a cookie off the plate on the coffee table. 

The cookies were great, and still warm so the chocolate chips were melted and gooey. 

“These are delicious, Pete,” Bucky complimented, surprising himself when the nickname came to him so easily. 

“He’s got a real knack for baking now,” May said fondly. “Sometimes I take some of what he bakes into work and the others used to think I’d bought it from a bakery.”

Peter flushed and shrunk into the chair as he shoved the cookie in his mouth. 

Bucky found himself relaxing in the presence of the Parkers, and despite his previous suspicions of Peter, the boy didn’t call him Barnes again or show any indication that he knew Bucky’s real identity. 

The three of them played scrabble and monopoly, and May and Peter didn’t seem to mind explaining the rules to Bucky since he’d only played once or twice before. The whole time, Christmas movies played on the TV and May kept up a steady serving of snacks and drinks for them. 

Bucky was always surprised by the Parker’s trust and hospitality. He knew he didn’t look the most approachable, but it was clear that May had now fears or hesitation in inviting him in and even leaving him alone with Peter while she was in another room. Peter was nice too; even if he did know the Bucky was an ex-assassin, he showed no trepidation or fear. It was refreshing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is pretty shitty, but I just wanted to get it out of the way and let you guys know i hadn't forgotten about this fic.   
> Fortunately, exams are over for me now, so summer is here and I can spend much more time writing. 
> 
> Another reason why I posted a shitty chapter is because I NEED YOUR HELP with the direction of this story.  
> Basically I planned for Bucky and Peter's friendship to blossom quickly and I was going to post a long chapter next time in which there is a little bit (or a lot) of angst and maybe whump, and then for Tony to find out that Bucky lives next to Peter and maybe for Bucky to find out Peter is Spider-man? But then i thought that might be too rushed and you might want to see more of Peter and Bucky bonding before they really become friends? Just let me know what you think! honestly if you have any prompts or ideas at all please tell me about them because I'm honestly not sure what direction to take. I was planning on plenty of Peter whump (bc that's basically my speciality) and a lot of protective Bucky - but please let me know what you think and your personal hopes for where this fic is going and maybe i'll try to incorporate as many of your ideas as possible. This fic can be as long as you want it, I can even turn it into a series if you like.  
> Please comment what you think because i honestly don't know what to do!!
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, see you again soon!
> 
> (please excuse any typos, I'm extremely tired atm)


	4. Chapter 4

It became a regular occurrence for Bucky to spend at least one evening a week at the Parker's. He considered May a friend, and Peter like a nephew? Cousin? Friend?

Peter was also at the compound to train with Steve every other weekend. The usual routine was training with Steve till lunch (sometimes with the Avengers and sometimes just with Tony) and then he’d spend the afternoon with Tony in the lab. 

One Saturday in early February, however, Peter was awoken at five am by a call from Tony. 

“Tony,” Peter slurred sleepily as he slapped the phone to the side of his face and balanced it, letting his hand fall away limp. 

“Hey, kiddo,” Tony chuckled. “I know it’s early but the Avengers just got a call out to help with some crazy guys with crazy tech and we kinda need some help, if you’re up to it?”

Peter perked up suddenly at the invite to join the Avengers on a mission. “Really?”

“Yeah,” Tony replied. “I’m sorry it’s early and I know you’re probably tired, but it’s either you or Barnes, and I really don’t have the energy to be dealing with the consequences of inviting him along today.”

“No, it’s fine, of course I’ll come,” Peter whisper-shouted, already out of bed and pulling his suit out of the drawer. “Where is it?”

“I’ll send the location to your suit, we’ll meet you there.”

***

The mission was fun. 

It took twenty minutes for Peter to swing over to the location (after leaving a message for May saying he went for his internship early). He met with the group and they discussed a plan, even taking some of Peter’s ideas into consideration. 

Peter climbed around the back of the warehouse and shut off the electricity, sending the villains into darkness, and then the rest of the Avengers busted in. There were about a hundred burly men wielding bulky yet temperamental alien weaponry, but they were not match for the avengers. 

Sticking to the rafters, Peter webbed up people and weapons at a safe distance until cap called him down for backup, when he got to put his combat training with Steve into play. He took a harsh hit to the face from a guy with some sort of gauntlet and a shot in the ribs from an energy blast from a gun, but otherwise he was on top of his game and in control of his strength. 

“Nice work, Spidey,” Steve complimented and clapped him on the back, as the last man fell to the ground. “Anyone escape?” he asked into his comm to Natasha, who had been controlling the entrance and exit for stragglers. 

“Not on my watch," Natasha replied with a smile in her tone.

“Good job everyone, let’s head back,” Steve said in a pleased tone. 

Tony landed next to Peter as he walked out of the warehouse and slid a metal arm across his shoulders. “I’m proud kid.”

“Spidey,” Steve called from a few steps ahead of them. “You’re welcome to come back to the compound if you want, but we’ll be in debrief for awhile which you, of course, don’t have to attend. You deserve a day off training anyway, you showed a lot of improvement today.”

“Thank you, Sir,” Peter blushed beneath the mask. “I think I’ll go home and take a nap if you don’t need me, Tony?”

“We can arrange another time to go over those upgrades,” Tony insisted. “Go and get some rest, kiddo.” 

Peter happily obliged. Swinging home with bruised (cracked as Karen kept reminding him) ribs was painful, so he mostly jumped across buildings and walked along roofs to get home to Queens. 

He shed his sweaty suit, put on pyjamas and collapsed onto the couch as soon as he got back because, thankfully, May was already at work. Turning on some trashy daytime TV and pulling out his physics homework on the coffee table, Peter settled in for a cosy afternoon. 

By the time he’d finished his physics and was beginning to study for a chemistry test, there was a loud knock on the door, and Peter groaned with aching joints as he got up to answer it. 

James stood innocently in the doorway, but his eyes instantly narrowed under his baseball cap when he saw Peter. 

“Oh, hey James,” Peter greeted with a small smile.

“What happened to your face?” James replied, his voice steely yet concerned. 

Peter hesitated, having forgotten that he was probably still black and blue from the mission this morning, and was yet to think of his excuse for when May got home. “Nothing,” he squeaked sheepishly. James gave him a look that made Peter shrink back. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Like hell, it doesn’t matter,” James admonished. “Have you at least iced it?”

Instead of answering, Peter averted his gaze and leaned on the door. “Uh, is there something I can help you with?”

James tutted at the change of subject, but rolled his eyes and continued. “May mentioned that your dishwasher was broken, I thought I could take a look at it.” 

Peter perked up and stepped aside to let the man in. “Be my guest.” 

In the kitchen, James set a tool box on the table and opened up the dishwasher, taking a peek inside. 

“Do you need any help?” Peter asked kindly. James looked up at him with calculating eyes. 

“Yes, actually.” The man moved over towards the freezer, retrieving two bags of frozen peas (Peter was not even sure why they had peas considering neither May or Peter liked them) and wrapped each in a dish cloth and handing them to Peter. “I need you to go sit on the couch and put one of these on your face and the other on your ribs.”

“Wha - how did you know about my ribs-” 

James just tapped his nose with one finger mysteriously and gently pushed Peter towards the sofa. “Don’t move until I say or I’ll call May.” 

With an indignant sigh Peter trudged towards the couch and balanced the ice packs on his swollen eye and bruised ribs. He rested his eyes as the coolness soothed the aches and pains, while listening to James’ clangs and bangs as he meddled with the dishwasher. 

“I just need to grab something from my place,” James called about twenty minutes later, startling Peter who’d been dozing slightly.

“‘Kay.”

James returned a few minutes later and took the ice off Peter’s face and chest, causing the teen to groan childishly. 

“Put this on your bruises,” James said, tossing a tube of some sort of lotion onto the boys lap. Surprisingly, he then sat down beside Peter and looked at him with his deep eyes. 

Undoing the cap and squeezing some of the chalky lotion onto his hand, Peter cringed at the chemically smell.

“What does this do?” he asked.

“It will help with the swelling and maybe help you look less like a panda,” James explained. “Just don’t get it in your eye.” 

Peter rubbed it on his bruised face and winced at the sensitivity under the skin. 

“Do you need help?” James asked suddenly, causing Peter to frown in confusion. “I just mean, do you need help dealing with whoever gave you these bruises?” he restated, absently reaching over and smoothing in some lotion Peter had missed on the side of his face, but quickly retracting his still-gloved hand and wiping it on his jeans. James sighed. “You know I don’t like to bring up my past, in the military and all that, but I know how to deal with punks who think it’s okay to hit you.”

Shaking his head, Peter slunk back into the couch cushions. “It’s not like that, I can handle myself.” Peter protested when James raised his eyebrows. “I can. It’s not like I’m picking fights with people.”

“You’re not in danger, are you?” James asked in a dark tone.

“What - no, of course not,” Peter chuckled. 

James hesitated. “You’d tell me if you were, though, right?” 

Peter wasn’t really sure what was going on, as it seemed like Bucky was parenting him, and making it his responsibility to keep him safe, even though they were just neighbours. But he nodded nonetheless. Then he frowned. 

“Why are you so determined to help us out?” Peter questioned. “I mean, with the dishwasher and this,” he held up the tube of lotion, “and you are always happy to come round, aren’t you bored of us?”

“‘Course not,” James shrugged. “I mean, helping you out is the least I could do after you do so much for me.” 

“Like what?” Peter asked. “I mean, what have we done for you?”

James quirked a surprised eyebrow, as if he was surprised Peter didn’t know. “Well… for starters you and May went out of your way to give me a house warming present and make me feel welcome all those months ago. You two always say hi to me when you see me on the stairs, which is really nice. And you invited me round for drinks before Christmas, and Christmas day, and now you invite me round every week. You’ve just been nice to me from day one even though I’ve been told I’m a little… cold? And intimidating?” 

“You’re not intimidating,” Peter protested. 

With a chesty laugh, James smirked. “Yeah, sure. But back to my original point - if you have any trouble with anyone or anything, I’d be happy to help you out.” 

James went back and finished fixing the dishwasher, while Peter silently contemplated James’ words.

By the time May got home that evening, Peter and James were sat in the kitchen with little parts of the dishwasher strewn across the table with screwdrivers in hand. 

“Oh, James, I wasn’t expecting you to be here,” May said fondly. 

“Well, I didn’t have anything else to do today, so I thought I’d take a look at your broken dishwasher,” James replied with a smile.

Peter hid his face in the material of his hoodie while May thanked James profusely. 

“I got your message this morning, Peter, how was the internship - Peter! What happened to your face?” May exclaimed, rounding the table, dropping her bags, and gently tilting Peter’s face towards the light to get a better look at the fading bruises. “Was it those kids at school again?” 

“It’s nothing, May,” Peter insisted, pulling out of May’s hold. “I’m fine.” 

May continued, ignoring Peter’s protests. “I swear I’m going to call your school and have strong words with that principal of yours. Why he didn’t have that idiot Flash suspended last time -”

“May!” Peter barked. “Please stop! It’s fine. I’m fine.”

Looking like she wanted to argue, May just tutted, ruffled Peter’s hair and kissed his forehead. “Okay, but if it happens again I’ll be knocking down that principal’s door, or you could learn how to duck.” This caused James to chuckle. “Anyway, I brought home thai food. You’re more than welcome to stay, James, I bought more than enough.”

James reluctantly agreed and helped Peter clear the dishwasher components off the table and set out all the take out boxes. Even after dinner was long since eaten, James and Peter stayed at the dining table, chatting companionably as they reattached all the dishwasher pieces.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry this is short and not much happens, but I might not be able to upload for a while (a week or so), so I saved what would have been the rest of this chapter for another chapter I'll probably upload next weekend... maybe?   
> Thank you all for the suggestions you left after the last chapter, I hope this chapter fulfilled some of them, but feel free to leave more suggestions for me if you want to. Next chapter is a good one (in my opinion) but all I'm going to say is that there is going to be some interaction between James and Spidey.   
> Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed it!


	5. Chapter 5

“Hey, James, you mind closing up shop for me when you’re done,” James’ boss, Mr Moran, called to him as he tossed the keys on the desk. “I promised the missus I’d take her out for dinner tonight and I may have forgotten to make a reservation.” 

Smiling at his boss’ usual forgetfulness, James ducked out from under a car. “Of course, Mr Moran, have a nice evening.”

“You too,” Mr Moran called back as he exited out of the back door. 

Twenty minutes later James was wiping the oil off his hands and leaving a message in the customer’s voicemail that they could pick up the car tomorrow morning. He pulled the shutter on the front of the shop and locked it behind him. On the way home he stopped at the small corner store down the street, which was usually quite quiet at this time of the evening, which was why James liked it.

The cashier greeted him with a curt nod of the head, before looking back at his phone screen. James could hear a few other customers rummaging through shelves, and aptly avoided the aisles they were in. As he searched for pasta and milk and coffee, the door opened again and this time the cashier gave a shout of alarm. 

James was on high alert immediately, shrinking behind a shelf and peering round to the front of the store. 

“Everybody to the register, now,” a masked man with a shotgun in hand demanded. 

Rolling his eyes, James sauntered to the front of the store, keeping his face cold and emotionless. No matter what Peter said, James knew he was intimidating, especially now with his grease-stained jeans, leather jacket and dark shoulder length hair. At this time, it was an advantage. The robber visibly struggled to hide his flinch as James stepped out of his hiding space and maintained eye contact with him as he approached the cash register, joining the cashier and the two other customers. One was a 30-something woman - short and small- the other was a young guy - floppy hair and lanky limbs - so, needless to say, if things went south then James would be the first target, considering he posed the most threat. 

“Give me the money out of the register, and all of you empty your pockets.”

James almost laughed at the guy. Admittedly, James hadn’t fully caught up with the modern world, but he knew enough about credit cards and contactless payments to know that robbing a store wouldn’t get this guy much loot. 

Nevertheless, James, along with the other customers, took out his wallet and phone, suddenly getting a sinking feeling. His phone had Tony’s number and was his last connection to the Avengers, and without it, he would have no choice but to go all the way back to the compound in an emergency. Not only that, but his wallet had the credit card Tony had also given him, and James would have no idea where to start with getting it blocked and replaced. But James couldn’t resist or start anything without exposing himself or putting everyone else in danger. 

Reluctantly, James put his wallet and phone onto the counter in front of him. 

“Hey, come on, man, let’s wrap this up,” the robber demanded of the cashier, shaking his gun threateningly. 

“Okay, I have to put transaction in to get the draw to open, give me a sec,” the cashier said, in a simultaneously annoyed and scared tone. 

“Hurry the fuck up,” the robber yelled, jamming the but of the gun into the guys’ temple. 

James couldn’t bite his lip any longer. “Hey, punk, give it a rest,” he called stepping towards the guy a little. 

“Oh you want a go!?” the man spat rounding on Bucky with vigour and pointing his gun at him. James didn’t flinch. “Stand back in line.” 

Raising his hands a little in a calming manner, James slowly stepped back to stand by the other customers. The robber was just getting the dazed cashier to stuff the money into his bag when the door opened again and a red and blue themed masked superhero walked in, looking around casually as if he was just shopping. 

“Hey, fellas,” Spider-man said easily. “Seems like a bit of an unfair trade is going on here.”

“Fuck off, Spidey-freak,” the robber blurted, though he was clearly now terrified and swing the gun round to point it at Spidey. 

“Don’t point that thing at me, it’s dangerous!” Spidey declared in the tone of a teacher reprimanding a child. Before the guy could get another word in, Spidey flicked his wrist and a web flew towards the man. The man flinched and the web latched to his wrist. He tried to pull away, but spidey quickly webbed his other hand to the counter, keeping hold of the gun hand with his web. 

A shot rang out in the store. Spidey dodged and the bullet flew through the glass on the door, shattering it. Someone outside screamed, and clearly the cops were about to be called. The robber tried harder to get out of the webs, but Spidey easily wrestled the gun from his hands and webbed it to the ground, and webbed the robber up tightly to the counter, a web over his mouth for good measure. 

“Everyone okay?” Spidey called out shyly. When he received an affirmative response, he continued. “Okay, someone call the police maybe… Uh, see you around.” And with that Spidey left, stepping over the broken glass of the door. James’ three associates called out urgent thanks to the vigilante, but James just silently watched Spider-man’s retreating form, and more importantly, the drops of blood falling to the floor among the shattered glass. 

“Hey!” James called as he rushed after the vigilante. “Spidey, wait!” 

The Spider-man didn’t slow down or turn around.

“You know me,” James said as he turned into a dark alleyway in pursuit of the man. “From Germany - but I’m not here to fight.”

Spidey stopped, perched upon a fire escape. “The guy with the metal arm,” he mumbled, not as though he just realised, but as though he’d known the whole time and was merely expressing his recognition. 

James nodded. “I’m not here to fight or spy or anything,” he promised. “I want to thank you.”

“Consider me thanked,” the Spider-man shrugged, looking upwards for somewhere to latch a web. 

“Seriously, Spidey,” James implored hernestly. “Thank you for helping back there, you don’t know how much trouble you got me out of by showing up. But I also need to ask you something.” Spider-man finally turned around to face him. “Why don’t you come down, this isn’t the sort of thing I want to shout in an alleyway.”

He saw Spider-man hesitate before he back-flipped off the fire escape and landed in front of James. 

“First things first,” James said in a business-like tone. He pulled a slightly dirty and very old handkerchief out of his jacket pocket (needless to say the other Avengers used to tease him mercilessly for still carrying around a handkerchief). “May I?” he gestured to Spidey’s bleeding arm, where a deep cut was slashed across his bicep, undoubtedly where the bullet grazed him. The vigilante didn’t flinch as James pressed his handkerchief to the arm, noticing the kid’s tense muscles beneath James’ own hands. James mopped up the blood and then tied the handkerchief tight around Spider’s arm. “You need to take better care of yourself kid. Second thing,” James began, stepping back from Spidey and slipping his hands in his jacket pocket casually. “This is the second time you’ve seen me round these parts. Admittedly the first time we didn’t exactly have a lengthy introduction before you bolted, but I’m fairly certain you recognised me.” Spidey didn’t confirm or deny this, but continued to look up at James from behind the mask. “All I want to ask is that you don’t tell anyone you saw me, particularly any of the Avengers, and especially not Steve.” 

Spider-man seemed a little shocked by this, but nodded vigorously. “No, yeah, totally, I won’t say a thing,” he blundered. “It’s, uh… I’m not exactly close to the Avengers, beside Mr Stark of course, so I wouldn’t say anything.” 

“Thanks, kid,” James said, and even dared let a small smile grace his face at the kid’s stuttering and nervousness - he was clearly much better at the action of the job than the talking side of it. Just then red and blue flashing lights let up the alleyway and sirens wailed in the street. “See you around, kid.”

As James turned to head back to the shop, Spidey called out. “Oh, hey, do you want your handkerchief back?” 

James turned round for a split second to see Spidey trying to untie the cloth from his arm. “No, you can keep it. It’s covered in all your spider blood now anyway,” he joked. 

Spidey gave a breathy laugh and shrugged his shoulders. “Okay then, thanks Mr Barnes.” He swung away before James could say anything else, and before James could question the familiarity of the name ‘Mr Barnes’ and how easily it slipped from the young man’s high pitched vocals. 

 

***Time jump ( a few weeks maybe )***

Peter had been feeling rough all day. It started with a horrific headache as soon as he woke up and an annoying wet cough. He didn’t think much of it, and left for school nevertheless. Over the day, he felt gradually worse, until his stomach was churning and vision swimming. 

After sleeping through lunch and the majority of his last lessons, Peter dragged himself down the halls to an after school decathlon practice. He sat down in his chair beside Ned as they set up to run practice questions. 

“You look like shit,” Ned said in a low tone. Peter just grumbled and buried his face in his arms. 

“He’s right,” MJ added in a dull tone as she gave out question papers. “You should go home.”

Peter lifted his head just to stare at her. “But ‘s practice,” he mumbled. “You get annoyed if I miss practice.”

“I would also get annoyed if you puked on me and spread your disease to the rest of the team,” MJ countered. “I’ll tell Mr Harrington your sick. Go home.”

Too tired to protest, Peter grabbed his bag and slumped out. 

The journey home seemed ten times longer. The train station he waited at was freezing, but the train itself was much too hot. Sweat clung to his forehead and slipped down his neck, but half way through the journey, he started shivering. His roiling stomach thanked him when he stepped from the train. 

As Peter continued towards home, his dizziness and discomfort increased. He coughed roughly into his fist, receiving a disgusted look from the lady he was walking past. Entering his building, Peter concluded that the movement of the elevator would probably have him heaving, so the stairs were his best option, hoping the dizziness doesn’t make him fall. 

Time seems to warp and suddenly he’s outside his apartment with his hand on the door knob, but he can’t open it. He searches his pocket and bag for keys, but there’s nothing. Peter could break the door down or pull the handle off, but he really didn’t want to deal with May’s reaction to that. 

Practically giving up and giving in to his aching, tired, sick body, Peter slid down the door and curled up on the floor, not caring for the dirtiness and the uncomfortable draft as he opted to take a quick nap while he waits for May to get home. 

He’s already asleep before he can realise that May’s working the night shift, and won’t be back until morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oof that's a weird place to end it, sorry.  
> Sorry this is super short, but I was going to post the next chapter with this one, but it kind of got a mind of it's own. I'm sure you can guess that next chapter is going to feature a sick Peter and a caring + panicked Bucky who is left to look after him. I'm super excited to be writing it so it'll probably be finished pretty soon.  
> All of your comments honestly make my day, if I don't reply it's because I'm lost for words (or I'm busy) but I swear I read every comment and you are all so nice I love you! I have the next chapter on the go right now but feel free to keep sending suggestions of what you want to see. I swear there is actually a plot and there's tiny little clues in each chapter and I'm hoping it'll fit together like a jigsaw in the end.  
> (This is a side note, but honestly i was looking back at my first few fics and honestly I don't know how I kept such a good uploading schedule! I think I uploaded every week and In the notes of like the middle chapter I was saying I was nearly finished writing the last scene and now I'm practically writing it as I'm uploading. It is my mission in life to be that amazingly organised uploader again, so I'm think of setting a day of the week aside to upload - like every friday or saturday - and hopefully that will keep me on task. Writing this is definitely not a chore, but I'm so easily distracted! Like right now I'm writing an over the top author's note instead of focusing on the next chapter! Any way, I'm going to try to get better at updating at least once a week and hopefully I'll stay on schedule!)  
> Thank you so much for reading this, I hope you enjoyed it!


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: sickness, mild vomit (not specific or graphic).

James wondered if it was even possible for him to walk home from work without stumbling across some unusual occurrence. Today, it was Peter Parker passed out in the doorway of his and May’s apartment. 

The kid must have been there since school let out, since he was dressed in his blue Midtown Tech sweater and still had his backpack on his back. Now James looked closer as he bent down to shake the teen awake, James could also see a sheen of perspiration across the boy’s forehead and small shivers shaking his frame. 

“Kid,” James said softly, shaking Peter’s shoulder and frowning when he got no response. “Peter, wake up, buddy.” 

Peter finally stirred, but merely frowned and curled into himself tighter. 

“No, no,” James reprimanded gently, trying to uncurl the boys locked limbs. “No, I need you to wake up, Pete.” The clearly very sick teen peeked his eyes open and looked up at James through glassy lenses. “There we go, Pete, you think we should take you inside?” 

Peter let out a croaked groan that was supposed to be words, so he sighed tiredly and tried again. “N-no keys.”

“No keys? Okay, is May home?” James asked softly. Peter shook his head minutely. “We’ll go into my apartment then, okay, I’m not leaving you out in this cold corridor all night.”

Gently pulling Peter up from the floor, James soon found himself almost completely holding up Peter’s weight. The kid slumped into James’ side, his head propped on his chest, and his eyes were barely open. James really started to worry as Peter’s legs lagged beneath him, and he felt the heat from the teen seeping through his clothes. 

“Where we goin’?” Peter mumbled into James’ shirt. 

“My apartment, Pete,” James explained, clearly worried at the teens lack of coherency. 

Peter didn’t reply, just sunk further into James’ side as they approached the door. Hoisting Peter to lean against himself with his metal arm, James unlocked the door with the other hand, before manhandling Peter into the apartment.

Making a bee-line for the couch, James gently settled the sleepy boy on the slightly dirty sofa cushions and rushed to grab a blanket from his bedroom. James knew enough about sickness and fevers to know that if Peter’s temperature was only slightly higher than was normal, he could sweat out whatever sickness he had. However, when he returned to the couch with his blankets and pillows, he hesitantly reach a hand to feel the boy’s forehead and almost gasped in shock.

Abandoning the blankets on the floor, James went back to his bedroom and pulled a baggy t-shirt and gym shorts from his draws. Peter’s fever was way too high to have any hope of sweating it out, and James’ new priority was cooling the kid down. 

“Come on kid, help me out here,” James said to the sleeping figure on the couch. He was hesitant to strip the boy down and change his clothes while he was in such a vulnerable state in case he frightened him. But he needed to cool him off. Coming to a mental compromise, James extracted Peter’s limp arms from his sweater and pulled the blue material over the boys head. Peter groaned and blinked his eyes open at James, frowning. “Hey, Pete, how are you feeling?” 

It took a while for Peter to comprehend the question, but eventually he replied. “Cold.” He shivered pitifully. “I should be at... d'cathlon.” 

“You’re sick, Pete,” James explained. “I’m glad you made it home. I’m going to call May.”

“She’s not home. She’s at work,” Peter mumbled, still shivering and coughing. 

James nodded pitifully. “I know but I need to let her know what’s going on and that you’re safe, okay?” Peter didn’t reply so James took his leave to the kitchen to call May, but still keeping an eye on the kid. 

“ _Hey, James,_ ” May greeted as she answered the phone. 

“Hi, May, do you have a minute to talk?” James asked anxiously. 

“ _Yeah, I’m on a break at work right now,_ ” May replied, more worried now after hearing James’ tone. “ _What’s wrong?_ ”

James hated to worry the woman, but he was way out of his depth caring for an invalid kid who looks about two degrees from death. “Uh, I just got home and I found Peter asleep outside your apartment, and when I woke him up he said he didn’t have any keys and you aren’t home. But he also seems really sick.”

“ _Sick? What do you mean?_ ” May asked, and now she was the one sounding anxious. 

Sighing, James explained. “He definitely has a fever, I brought him into my apartment off the corridor and he could barely walk, he’s really out of it and he’s coughing and sweating.”

He heard May make a disgruntled noise through the phone. “ _Do you know how high his fever is?_ ”

“Uh, I don’t have a thermometer,” James said sheepishly. “But it seems pretty high. He’s got the chills, he said he was cold but he’s sweating like a pig.”

“ _Oh gosh,_ ” May murmured. “ _I don’t think I can get out of this shift, I’m covering for someone as it is. I won’t be back until morning._ ” 

That was almost exactly what James didn’t want to hear. Of course James wouldn’t mind taking care of Peter if he had a cold or something, but as he watched Peter shivering and hacking coughs, shirtless on his couch, James knew that this was well beyond any medical knowledge he had. 

“I can take care of him as best as I can, May,” James said tentatively, knowing May might be hesitant to leave her sickly vulnerable kid with a fully grown, mentally damaged man. 

“ _Oh, James I can’t ask you to do that,_ ” May insisted. “ _Listen I can call Tony, Peter’s boss, and he can take him to a doctor or send Happy to help or something._ ”

Alarm bells seemed to ring piercingly in James’ mind. If Tony or Happy came to pick up the kid, James' location would be known. “Honestly, May, it’s fine. I’m sure Peter just needs to sweat it out, I’ll watch him. I was in the army, remember, I know a thing or two about treating ailments.”

“ _Yeah, James, but you don’t even have a thermometer, I suppose you also don’t have tylenol or dayquil or anything,_ ” May said, a hint of amusement peaking through. 

James grit his teeth. “Okay, but I can run to the store and be back in like ten minutes, and I’ll give him a change of clothes.”

There was a noise at May’s end of the phone, which sounded like someone calling her name. “ _Listen, James I’ve got to go back to work, but I’ll text you a list of things you might need and text you Tony’s number and promise me you’ll call either me or him if Peter gets any worse. Make sure Peter keeps his phone by him in case he needs me. I’m trusting you, James, please just keep him safe,_ ” May said hurriedly, almost threateningly before ending the call. 

James stood in shocked silence for almost a minute as he stared at the sickly teen. He’d vaguely thought calling May would fix all his problems, as she seemed like the sort of person who was prepared for anything and knew exactly what to do in these sorts of situations. James was not that sort of person. 

First things first, get the kid to change out of his jeans and into the gym shorts and shirt. “Hey, kid,” James said as he approached the couch, gently shaking Peter’s shoulder to waken the boy. He blinked slowly at James. “I got you these to change into,” he explained, holding up his old shirt and gym shorts. Peter groaned as James helped pull the overly large shirt over the boy’s head and pulled his arms through. James had the decency to avert his eyes as Peter took off his jeans and put on the shorts, but kept a firm hand on his arm to keep him upright. “Better?” James asked as Peter slumped back into the couch and curled in on himself, but now looking a lot more comfortable. Peter nodded his head lazily. “Okay, I’m going to go to the store and get you some stuff, you stay here. Do not move from this couch, okay? Here,” he put Peter’s phone in his hand and closed the boys fingers around it. “If you need anything then call me or May. Even if you feel sick or you’re cold, call me okay, and I’ll come back. I’ll be as fast as I can.”

James hated leaving the boy like this, especially when Peter made not indication that he’d heard a word James said. Before leaving, he pulled the blankets away from the boy, opened the windows and put the ac on, and even wet a cloth and placed it over the sleeping boy’s forehead.

With one last glance at the sleeping boy, James left his apartment, locked the door and then jogged down the corridor, practically jumping down whole flights of stairs. He didn’t stop running until he reached the store (not his usual store since it was still closed from the robbery, but a local pharmacy down the street from his apartment). He scanned the list May sent him and rushed through the aisles and threw all sorts of medicines and cool packs and gatorade and fever reducers into his basket. James would have panicked at the price when the cashier checked him out, but thankfully he still had a good amount of money left in the bank account Tony set up for him. He rushed home now with a shopping bag clutched in his hands.

As soon as he got home he almost panicked yet again when he saw Peter was not where he left him on the couch.

“Peter?” James called out worriedly, dropping the bag on the floor and scouring the apartment. It didn’t take long to find Peter slumped in the bathroom, oddly enough clutching floor cleaner and a cloth in his hands. “What happened?” James asked, approaching the boy and shaking him awake for what felt like the millionth time. 

“James!” Peter cried out, waking up suddenly and apparently alarmed and relieved by the man’s presence. “I- I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to! I just woke up and-”

“Calm down, slow down. Can you tell me what happened, nice and slow?” James asked calmly. 

Peter panted out a cough which brought tears to his eyes before hoarsely explaining. “I woke up and I got sick and… and I didn’t have time… and I was going to clean it up and then… then I don’t know. I didn’t mean to. Sorry.” 

“It’s fine,” James said rubbing soothingly on the boys burning arm. “Do you still feel sick?” To which Peter shook his head. “Okay, let’s get you back on the couch and I’ll clean up the mess.”

Mumbled protests tumbled over each other as they left Peter’s lazy mouth, meaning he made no sense at all, but James just helped the boy to his feet, catching him as he threatened to fall straight back down. Back in the living room, James became more aware of the slightly acidic smell that accompanied sickness, but was pleasantly surprised to find only a small amount of watery mess on the floor, probably due to Peter not having eaten a lot today. Peter whimpered at the sight, but James was quick to shush him and reassure him. 

Deciding to clean up later, James positioned Peter upright on the couch before laying a paper towel over the mess and spraying febreeze over the spot. First things first was he had to check the kid’s fever and get some medicines in him. 

After retrieving his goody bag from where he’d abandoned it on the floor, James sat on the coffee table facing Peter, tearing the packaging off the thermometer and saying, “Open up, kiddo.” 

They waited for the little machine to beep, then James took it from the boy’s mouth and inspected the numbers. James was not a qualified in medicine in any way, but that didn’t stop the pit of dread in his stomach when he saw that Peter’s fever was 103.2 degrees. James’ new plan was quickly formed - Fever reducer, painkiller, call May again. 

Peter didn’t seem the slightest bit interested in what the thermometer read, in favour of slumping back into the couch and attempting to go back to sleep. 

“Hey, hey, stay awake,” James reprimanded, squeezing Peter’s knee to get his attention. Peter groaned and rolled his head back towards James along the couch cushion. Rustling through the bag again James brought out the selection of fever reducing pills and medicine bottle’s he’d bought and selected the most heavy duty looking one. “Eat this,” he said thrusting a plain cracker towards Peter as he uncapped the medicine bottle and measured a serving onto the little plastic spoon. Peter just stared at the cracker in his hand. “You have to eat it, Pete. If you have the medicine on an empty stomach you’ll throw up again.” 

He wasn’t sure Peter fully understood what James’d said, but he clearly knew the no-nonsense tone and took a few measly bites of the cracker, swallowing them roughly. James then offered the spoon of medicine. Reaching up a shaky hand, Peter clutched his hand around James' hand holding the spoon and messily guided it into his mouth - James supposed it wouldn’t have made it in had he not kept hold. Peter protested the taste with a loud whine and a shudder. 

“There you go champ,” James said, giving the teen a bottle of Gatorade to help with the after-taste. “How do you feel?” 

“M’ok,” Peter quickly commented. 

James rolled his eyes. “I’m guessing you don’t want any painkillers for your headache then,” he said teasingly, then laughed quietly at Peter’s affronted look. “Here, the lady at the store said you could take ibuprofen with that fever medicine.” James shook out two tablets of ibuprofen, which Peter swallowed down with some more Gatorade. “Feel like you’re going to up-chuck again?” he asked, to which Peter shook his head. James was slightly relieved by this. “Lay back,” James instructed, and Peter willingly complied, curling around a blanket. Tutting, James gently pried the blanket away from the kid. Peter shivered, but didn’t attempt to get the blanket back. 

While Peter went back to sleep, James cleaned up the floor before sitting in the armchair across from Peter and sending a text to May.

_James: 103 fever._

_James: and he threw up while I was at the store._

_James: but that was before fever reducer and ibuprofen._

 

While waiting for a reply, James took the time to fully mentally assess the situation: there was a kid he’d known for barely six-months asleep on his sofa with a raging fever, his aunt was stuck at work and his only alternative contact is Tony Stark, who did not know James lived next door to his favourite intern. 

James nervously ran a hand through his long hair as he stared at the teen. His anxiety for the scrawny boy was oddly familiar to his protectiveness over Steve back in the day, but he quickly suppressed the memories firmly with the reminder of his and Steve’s argument. 

Deciding that the silence was too heavy with Peter’s rattling breathes and occasional hacking coughs, James flicked on his newly bought sub-standard TV and put some documentary on a low volume. He vaguely watched the sea turtles swimming around while a narrator talked, until his phone chimed with a text.

May: _If his fever rises to 104 call me and we’ll figure out getting him to the ER. For now try to keep him cool but not cold, give him plenty of fluids and try to get him to eat some plain crackers or toast if you can. I’ll talk to my boss about getting off my shift early, but if i can’t then I won’t be back till about 6am._

May: thank you for taking care of him, I don’t know what I’d do if it wasn’t for you. I'll pay you back for all the medicine and stuff.

James replied that he’ll do his best to keep the fever down and dismissed her thanks. 

Peter slept almost soundly for the next half hour before he woke up gagging and spluttering, clearly disoriented, but malleable enough for James to position him over a mixing bowl he had on stand by. Dejectedly, James tried to get the boy to have more of the fever medicine to replace to the dose he’d just brought back up, but Peter was not having it. Peter kept turning his head away and hiding in the couch cushions, grumbling protests at James when he tried to force him to sit up a take the medicine. 

With a sigh, James got up and fetched a glass of water instead, which Peter was slightly less hesitant to drink - if Peter could keep the water down, James would use this as his argument to get Peter to have more medicine, but for now he gave up after a few sips of water, and James allowed the boy to go back to sleep. 

After rinsing the mixing bowl and positioning it back next to Peter, James resigned himself to continuing to watch the documentary. 

Though Peter’s sleep was far from sound, he didn’t wake up again all evening, and James felt comfortable enough to get himself some food from the kitchen to have for dinner. James was glad he had a strong stomach and didn’t lose his appetite looking after the sick teen, but also decided not to make anything strong smelling so as not to set off the poor boy’s stomach. 

After demolishing a stack of sandwiches in the kitchen James returned to the living room to see Peter awake, sat up slightly and with bleary eyes scanning the room. James tentatively reached for the mixing bowl, but Peter shook his head. 

“How’re you feeling?” James asked, sitting next to Peter and putting a gentle hand on his shoulder. 

“‘M fine,” Peter replied, rubbing a hand across his eyes and scrunching up his nose adorably. 

James sighed. “Really?”

Nodding, Peter yawned and looked away. “Thank you for looking after me,” Peter said, and then before James could deflect the thanks, he asked. “What’re you watchin’?”

“It was a documentary about turtles, but I think it finished,” James commented, looking at the screen that was now showing a commercial for shaving gel. Peter just hummed in response and reached for the blanket that James had laid over the back of the couch in an attempt to stop Peter overheating himself. “Nuh-uh, Pete. You’re still too hot,” James reprimanded, snatching the blanket away and tossing it on the armchair across the room. 

“No, ’s cold,” Peter whined, looking longingly and tiredly at the blanket.

“When you’re fever’s gone down you can have it back,” James said gently, patting the boy’s knee comfortingly. “All the more incentive for you to get better.”

Peter responded with a wet sniff and a cough. After a few minutes of watching some show about archaeology, Peter drifted back to sleep next to James, occasionally shivering and coughing. James moved to the armchair to give the boy space to spread out if he wanted, and leaned his head back on the cushion to rest his eyes for a few minutes. 

After almost a two hour nap, James awoke to mumbling and thudding. Instantly alert, James stood up and made his way over to the couch, where he found Peter, illuminated by the light of the TV, thrashing weakly in his sleep and muttering. 

“Unc’ Ben, wait,” Peter slurred, rolling his head across the pillow. James didn’t have time to wake the boy up before he choked on his own delirious mumblings and woke himself up with a coughing fit. Waiting for it to pass, James had one hand on Peters back, rubbing soothing circles, and one hand on the mixing bowl on the floor as his coughs began sounding more like gags. Once his coughing subsided, Peter shakily gulped in air, falling flat to the couch and shivering. 

James could feel Peter’s fever raging through the material of his shirt. Following several attempts to rouse him, James realised that Peter, though he was conscious and had his eyes open, was not responding to any sort of stimulus. 

Quickly, James checked his temperature again with the thermometer and cursed at the numbers. 104.0. James sprang up from the couch, grabbed a clean cloth and a bowl of cold water from the kitchen and was back next to Peter within seconds. He placed the cloth on Peter’s forehead and then reached for the fever-reducer on the coffee table next to him. 

“C’mon, kiddo, I need you to keep it down for me this time,” James murmured pleadingly as he poured out a dose and struggled to feed it to Peter, who ducked away from the spoon. Eventually, James had to hold Peter’s chin and pull his jaw open to get the spoon in and then clamp his mouth shut until Peter swallowed the medicine.

James wasn’t stupid. He knew that a 104 degree fever was worth a trip to the hospital, but he also knew that May couldn’t skip work, and James couldn’t call Tony Stark for help.

Just then, James’ thoughts were interrupted by some awful tinny-sounding yodelling. Peter’s phone lit up on the coffee table and showed a peculiar picture of a boy with the caller ID showing the name Ned. James had heard of Ned many a time and he seemed to be Peter’s only friend.

Although Ned was probably only calling to check up on his sick friend, James felt no obligation to answer the phone and speak to the excitable teenage boy. However the second and third time the phone rang, the ringtone annoyed James so much he answered it just to make it stop. 

“Hello?” James asked tentatively.

“ _Peter? What happened to your voice? Do you have tonsillitis again? Is that why you were so sick at school? You sound rough, man._ ” The voice through the phone sounded rushed and young, but friendly none the less. 

“Uh, this isn’t Peter. I’m James… Peter’s neighbour,” James explained.

There was a pause, before the voice continued. “ _Oh, hey James. I’m Ned. Peter’s told me about you, he thinks you’re cool. Why do you have Peter’s phone? Is he okay?_ ”

“Nice to meet you, Ned. I have Peter’s phone because he’s at my place, I’m looking after him… his aunt’s not home… And no he’s not really okay, he’s pretty sick.”

“ _Oh, so he won’t be at school tomorrow?_ ” Ned asked with a tone of concern and disappointment.

James scoffed slightly. “I’m thinking more like he’ll be in hospital tomorrow.”

“ _No!_ ” Ned cried over the phone, startling James into a state of confusion. “ _I mean, hasn’t he told you? - he can’t go to a hospital!_ ”

James just frowned further. “Hasn’t told me what? Why can’t he go?”

“ _Because…_ ” Ned said slowly, as if he was thinking on the spot. “ _Because… of… his fear of doctors!_ ”

“His fear of doctors?” James repeated disbelievingly. 

“ _Yeah, yeah!_ ” Ned insisted, James could tell he was nodding his head violently. “ _He’s super scared of them, he’d run right out of that hospital and be in Canada before you found him!_ ”

“I don’t know if you’re getting it, kid. Peter isn’t in any condition to run anywhere any time soon,” he said with a humourless laugh. 

But Ned didn’t seem to want to back down, and it was making James suspicious of both him and Peter. “ _No seriously, you can’t take him to hospital, if he needs help then you have to call Mr Stark! Peter can’t go to a hospital!_ ”

James just sighed and shook his head. “Listen kid I don’t know what you’re trying to do here but May has put me in charge of looking after Peter while he’s sick and I’m going to do whatever I think is necessary to stop Peter dying on my couch, okay? It was nice speaking to you Ned.” With that he hung up the phone and tossed it onto the coffee table, but not before putting it on silent mode for good measure. 

These damn kids were going to be the death of James, if they didn’t die themselves first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The length of this chapter is... honestly an achievement. I hope you enjoyed it!  
> Honestly I haven't been sick in at least six months and even that was just strep throat, but I've read enough sick fics to get the general idea, so I hope this chapter is okay. Also I am not trained in medicine in any way so if this has some errors, please forgive me.  
> The next chapter will follow on directly from this one and I promise I'll try to get it uploaded as soon as possible.  
> Feel free to leave suggestions and prompts, I swear I read every single one even if I don't have time to reply.  
> Thank you for reading, I hope you enjoyed it!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (Lots of inaccurate medical stuff, sorry)

James waited for a nerve wracking half hour to see if Peter’s fever showed any sign of dropping.

It did not.

Peter’s fever-induced thrashing and mumbling had died down, but that was more due to his body’s exhaustion than him actually getting better. He was also coughing more violently in his sleep - hacking and wet coughs that had James rushing to sit the boy up and pat his back to help clear his airways.

For some reason, Ned’s persistent insistence that Peter couldn’t go to a hospital lingered annoyingly in the back of his mind, hence why James was thumbing through the limited number of contacts on his phone and hovering hesitantly over Tony’s number, which he had for emergency reasons only - but James was pretty sure this counted as an emergency. 

Fundamentally, it was selfish not to call Tony for help. For all James knew, Peter could be dying from some deadly virus right now and James was refusing to get him medical help because he didn’t want Tony Stark to know his address. 

But then again, in May’s last text she’d said that if the fever rose he should take Peter to the Emergency Room, which seemed more helpful than Tony right now. But then _again_ , Peter was probably covered for health care through his job at SI, maybe Tony could get him private help and then he didn’t have to wait around at an ER to be seen by some stressed, rushed, and probably sub-standard doctor, and then wait even longer for a diagnosis and treatment. 

Peter disrupted his thoughts by coughing violently and wetly next to him, and James shook his head with a sigh before biting the bullet and calling Tony. 

_“Barnes,”_ Tony greeted in a surprised, concerned, yet friendly manner. It made James feel glad that he and Tony had worked through their differences and become companionable before James’ abrupt departure from the compound. _“What can I do for you at... 2am on this lovely morning?”_

James hadn’t realised it was 2am, and he almost felt bad for disturbing the man before remembering the severity of the situation (and realising that Tony almost definitely hadn’t been asleep any way). “Uh, your intern, Peter Parker, he lives next door to me and his aunt isn’t home and he’s-”

 _“You live next door to Peter?”_ Tony exclaimed, shocked and surprised. _“Of fucking course you do, why is my life like this?”_ he said to himself through a sigh. _“Do carry on, Buckaroo. What’s he done this time?”_

“Uh, well he’s really sick and his aunt’s not home so I’m looking after him, but I can’t get his fever down and he’s not responding to me anymore,” James explained anxiously.

 _“How sick are we talking?”_ Tony asked, much more serious now and definitely nervous. James wondered how close he was to Peter. 

James ran a hand through his long hair. “His fever was 104 last time I checked, he vomited a few times, he’s coughing loads and uh… I think he was talking about uncle Ben.”

 _“Shit!”_ Tony cursed, followed be lots of foreign sounds of clanging and metal shifting. _“I’m on my way, I’ll be there in a few minutes. You’re in the apartment next to Peter’s, yeah?”_

“Yeah,” James replied. “Do you want me to text his aunt?”

_“Nah, I’ll get FRIDAY to do it, just hang tight for a couple of minutes."_

It really was only a couple of minutes before there was a sharp but polite knock on the door and James threw himself over the back of the couch to answer it. 

Tony looked more dishevelled than James had ever seen him, wearing a faded sweater over his pyjamas and no shoes on his feet, yet he still managed to smile at James.

“Good to see you, Barnes,” he said with an earnest nod of the head, as if he was tipping an imaginary top-hat. “May I come in?”

James stepped aside and let the man in. “Pete’s on the couch.”

They made there way over and Tony wasted no time in crouching down on the grubby floor beside the couch and rubbing a gentle hand on Peter’s back. 

“Damn, he’s cooking,” Tony mumbled, looking worried. “Hey, kid. You’re favourite avenger is here to take care of you.” Peter did not stir. Tony turned to James. “How long has he been like this?”

“I found him passed out in front of his apartment at about five thirty yesterday afternoon, I’m assuming he had been there since he got out of school,” James explained, still running a hand through his hair and probably making it greasy. “He’s been coughing and vomiting, and his fever stayed at 103 for a bit but then it rose, and now he won’t wake up.” 

As if to prove James’ point, Peter made a noise similar to a groan of agony, and then broke down into indiscernible whispers in his sleep. 

Tony nodded, his hand rubbing Peter’s back and shoulder soothingly as he thought of what to do. “Okay,” he said at last, in a tone that hinted he was about to tell James his plan of action. “Whatever’s got Peter like this has hit him fast and hard. I was speaking to May on the way over and she said he seemed perfectly fine this morning, though this is Peter we’re talking about - he’d rather get punched a hundred times over than admit to feeling a little queasy.” James would have laughed fondly had he not been so distracted with worry for Peter. “I’ll fly him to the compound, there’s no way were waiting for a car to get here. Do you have a fire escape I could use?”

 

Opening the window that led to the fire escape in James’ spare room, Tony climbed out and tapped the arc reactor on his chest to make the nano-particle suit expand over his body. James went back to the living room and bundled the sleeping teen up in his arms, trying not to flinch at the heat and the painful coughs that shook Peter in his sleep. As carefully as they could, James passed Peter through the window to Tony’s metal encased arms. For two men who were privy to beating the living daylights out of aliens, one wearing a full metal suit and one with a literal metal arm, the transition of moving Peter into Tony’s arms was smooth and gentle, both men taking extra care not to hit the boy’s head on the window. 

“I’ll text you later when he’s settled in the medbay,” Tony promised James, before slowly and gently engaging his thrusters and hovering above the fire escape. Once he was sure he had a tight hold on Peter and the boy wasn’t going to fall to his death, he picked up speed and flew off into the distance. 

***(Tony)***

It wasn’t the first time he’d flown Peter somewhere, and it wasn’t even the first time Peter had been unconscious on the familiar flight path to the compound. But usually Peter was wearing the Spider-man suit and was unconscious due to something idiotic. This time with Peter in his arms - mumbling and sweating and curling himself into the armour with a raging fever - seemed much more child-like and vulnerable than Spider-man. Maybe that’s why Tony’s heart was beating painfully fast with worry. 

Tony took the flight slightly slower than normal in fear of Peter slipping from his grip or thrashing about due to a fever dream, yet only a few minutes into the flight, FRIDAY alerted him of an incoming call from Bucky. 

Answering the call, Tony couldn’t even get out a greeting before Bucky interrupted. 

“I want to come with you,” is all he said.

Tony started at the suddenness for a second. “Buck, you know I’m taking him to the compound right?”

“Yes,” Bucky replied simply. “I want to make sure Peter’s okay.” 

It baffled Tony just how close Bucky and Peter seemed. Bucky hadn’t seemed at all perturbed by having to take care of a sick child, and judging by the countless bottles of medicine and crackers and Gatorade that had littered the man’s coffee table when Tony had arrived, he’d really been trying to help Peter feel better, not just leaving him on the couch to fester like others would have done. Obviously, Tony didn’t know the pair’s dynamic fully, but they seemed close.

“As long as you don’t mind the possibility of some of the team seeing you…” Tony suggested after a pause. 

“Yeah, fine. I don’t care about that as much as I care about Peter,” Bucky said, seemingly shocking himself as well as Tony with the heartfelt sentiment. 

After a pause, Tony continued. “Okay then. Can you wait until morning? May is going to come straight here from work but I can send Happy to pick you up at around eight if you want. Hopefully Peter will be settled by then.” 

“Okay,” Bucky replied, though he was clearly annoyed by being told to wait. “Look after him, Stark.”

“I will,” Tony promised before ending the call right before he landed at the compound. The suit retracted and Tony was left carrying Peter with his bare arms, though he was not heavy and Tony enjoyed having the ability to pull the boy in closer to his chest. As soon as he set foot in the building, FRIDAY informed him that a group from medical were ready and waiting downstairs at the medbay. “Take me there, FRI,” Tony instructed as he got in the elevator, hating how limp and sweaty the boy in his arms was. 

In record time, Tony was at the medbay, and met by the small medical team who were currently stationed at the compound, and Tony gently lowered Peter onto the waiting gurney. 

They made their way down the hall to Peter’s (Spider-man’s) usual medical room while Cho demanded a list of symptoms from Tony. 

“Coughing, vomiting, headache, fever of at least 104, shivering, he’s coughing in his sleep, last time he woke up he was really confused, now he’s not responding - he won’t wake up,” Tony said in a controlled rush as nurses began to hook him up to heart monitors and all sorts of other machines. 

Cho made a note of everything Tony said and clicked her pen as she thought. “Could be the flu, but that fever is worrying,” she commented almost to herself, but all of her nurses seemed to look round and nod. “What’s his temperature now?” she asked a nurse who had a thermometer in hand. 

“106.5,” the nurse replied. 

“It was 104 like… less than an hour ago,” Tony said, hoping the information helped. “His aunt said he felt fine this morning.”

Cho nodded interestingly. “So it’s progressed fast… could be due to his enhancements. Someone get cooling blankets and a cold compress. We need a blood test.”

Tony stood back and watched as the nurses and doctor worked like clockwork reading off vitals and working on a diagnosis. Although, even through Peter’s heavy fever-induced sleep he flinched at the cooling blankets and then almost jerked his whole arm away when the needle was put in for the blood test. 

“Tony,” Cho called to the man, which was all the instruction he needed before he hurried over to the bed and began shushing Peter. 

The boy seemed to be aware of more hands touching him and buzzing around him, and his muttering got louder and more distressed, but his eyes still didn’t open. 

“Shh, Pete,” Tony soothed, crouching by the head of the bed to mostly get out of the nurses’ way and smoothing his fingers through Peter’s greasy, sweaty hair. Tony barely paid attention as Cho and the nurses worked, talking about blood tests and viruses and enhancements and scanning his chest. Instead, Tony focussed on whispering soothingly to Peter, patting his hair back from his face and shushing him when he got rowdy in his sleep. 

As soon as Peter’s fever was steady - still high but at least not rising for the time being - and they'd taken all the scans and tests they needed, Tony climbed onto the bed next to him. Immediately, Peter pressed himself into Tony’s side, unknowingly getting sweat on Tony’s pyjamas and pressing his hot face into the man’s chest. 

“Nuh, uh, kiddo, you’ll get too hot,” Tony reprimanded lightly as he pulled peter away slightly and put the boys head on his shoulder instead. 

“Here.”

Tony looked up to see Cho handing him a damp cloth and placing a bowl of water and the bedside table. It was only the two of them and one other nurse in the room, who had just injected Peter with something before taking her leave.

“Try to keep him cool,” Cho explained as Tony took the cloth and began wiping down Peter’s forehead and face. 

“You know what’s wrong with him yet?” Tony asked hopefully as he dipped the cloth back in the water before returning it to the boy’s face. 

Cho nodded, and tiredly sat on the bottom of Peter’s bed. “So far as we can tell he has pneumonia.”

Tony frowned. “Pneumonia? I didn’t know that caused all the...vomiting and stuff.”

“It doesn’t normally,” Cho agreed. “What I think happened was that he got a chest infection developed from a bacterial sickness that he probably didn’t even notice he had due to his enhancements. He might have just had a little cough or throat irritation for a few days, nothing for him to worry about. But then when the infection really took route and developed into pneumonia, his body couldn’t really fight it anymore and it went into overdrive to try and get rid of it. A fever is common with any type of chest infection but for it to come on so suddenly and fast was unusual, but I think that was just his body’s way of trying to fight the infection when nothing else seemed to be working. His body just tried to flush everything out in one go, which explains the vomiting and horribly high fever.”

Tony listened to the explanation intently nodding and thinking. “He hasn’t really got sick since the spider bite,” Tony mused. “I didn’t think he _could_ anymore.”

Cho shrugged. “I think his body is really good at fighting small ailments, but when a big infection came along it overreacted to compensate. We have him on antibiotics for now, we’ll see how that goes before discussing discharging him, which I know will be the first thing he asks about,” she joked. Tony laughed dully. “But we’ll have to monitor his fever carefully until he’s better.”

Tony thanked Cho profusely, and she assured him it was a pleasure, as always, to help Peter and that she and a few nurses would be on call if he or Peter needed anything. Neither of them acknowledged that she didn’t even try to get Tony to leave the medbay, knowing that he would only have peace-of-mind if he watched over Peter all night. 

“You gave us all a scare, buddy,” Tony said gently once they were alone, still washing off his face with the cloth. “I didn’t know you had so many people playing for your team,” he added, thinking back to the shock of Bucky’s phone call and the worried, almost protective look on the ex-Winter Soldier's face. “This is going to make life very interesting.”

***

Tony woke early with a crick in his neck and spasms in his back muscles from sleeping uncomfortably next to Peter all night. He carefully untangled himself - Peter’s arms had somehow ended up looped around his middle - and stood next to the hospital bed, stretching and yawning. Peter was still conked out, with his fever still lingering around 104, so Tony thought it was safe for him to venture upstairs and make some coffee, but not before telling FRIDAY to alert him immediately if Peter began to wake up. 

It was still before six in the morning, and Tony didn’t expect to find anyone awake, and he didn’t know whether it was fortune, misfortune, or a coincidence that he ran into Cap in the communal kitchen, probably having just got back from his morning run, or just about to go out for one. 

“Morning,” Steve greeted. Tony just grunted sleepily in reply, absently making his way to the coffee machine. “Why are you up so early? Long night in the lab?”

“More like long morning in the medbay,” Tony joked humourlessly, not noticing how Steve expressed shifted from friendly to concerned. 

“Why? Are you okay?” Steve questioned tensely.

Tony grinned. “You’re concern is touching, Cap. But I’m fine. I was just keeping Spider-man company. He has pneumonia.”

“Oh,” Steve said, though he still sounded concerned. “Will he be okay?”

“Yeah, but he has a crazy fever right now so they’re keeping him for observation.” 

Steve nodded solemnly, probably reminiscing about some time he had pneumonia as a sickly kid in the 30s. “I hope he gets better soon.”

“Me too,” Tony commented as he poured fresh coffee into his mug and headed back down to the medbay. 

When Tony reentered Peter’s hospital room there was a nurse there changing the IV bag and humming quietly to herself. She startled slightly when she saw Tony. 

“Oh, I thought you might have gone for a nap,” the nurse explains, now checking Peter’s vitals and writing the information down on the file at the bottom of his bed. 

Tony put his coffee cup down on the side table and sank heavily into a chair beside the bed. “Tony Stark doesn’t nap,” he jokes. “Tony Stark drinks coffee until he passes out.”

“Hm, so it wasn’t you snoring so loud we could hear it in the nurses’ office last night,” she says, giving him side-eyes as she continues to write.

“N-no. No, that was Peter,” Tony denies, despite that fact that Pepper has told him multiple times that he snores horribly if he lies on his back. “It must be the pneumonia… all the build up of m-mucus and...stuff.”

“Ah, of course,” the nurse says knowingly, before turning to leave the room. “Dr Cho will come by at seven to run some tests and give you an update on his condition. If you need anything then FRIDAY can contact us.”

Tony sighed when she shut the door behind her, picked up his coffee cup again and blew on the steaming beverage gently, before a hoarse voice startled him. 

“I don’ snore.”

Jumping suddenly at the gruff voice, hot coffee spilled freely from the cup in Tony’s hands, scolding his lap and causing the man to curse loudly. Weak laughs emanated from the bed before him and Tony looked up to see Peter smiling at him with glassy eyes. Then the laughs turned into rattling coughs that had Tony cursing again as he tried to help the boy to sit up to help him breathe better. 

He knew telling the kid to ‘calm down’ or ‘breathe deep’ would be a little insensitive in this situation, so he just rubbed the boy’s sweat soaked back through the hospital gown and repeated, “Okay, kiddo. You’re okay.” The coughs were wet and painful sounding, but stopped abruptly when a squelching noise in the back of his throat accompanied a cough and Peter shut his mouth abruptly. “Did something come up?” Tony asked.

Peter nodded sadly, but dutifully spat the mucus up into the kidney-dish Tony held under his chin. 

“I’m sorry,” he moaned, wiping tears from his eyes brought on by the coughing.

“Don’t be,” Tony soothed, putting the dish down and lowering Peter back against the stack of pillows that were keeping him at the right angle to ease his breathing. “How are you feeling?”

Peter hummed in a noncommittal way as he peered around the room. “Are we in the medbay?”

“Yeah, buddy,” Tony said softly, rubbing Peter’s arm gently to soothe him. “Barnes called me last night because he was worried about your fever, and then I brought you back here. Turns out you have pneumonia, so you’re going to have to take it easy for a while.”

It was a testament to just how bad Peter must have felt that he didn’t argue about having to take it easy, he just muttered, “‘Kay,” and then snuggled deeper into his mountain of pillows.

“May is on the way over to come visit you,” Tony said conversationally, picking up the remainder of his cup of coffee and taking a swig while absently checking his phone. “And Bucky’s going to come by a little later on.”

To Tony’s surprise, Peter’s eyes that had been drooping shut suddenly snapped open. “Don’t tell May I’m Spider-man… or James.”

Tony faltered for a second, wondering why Peter had called Bucky ‘James’ and why he hadn’t told him he was Spider-man. “I won’t tell don’t worry,” Tony assured him. “Does Bucky not know you’re Spider-man? I thought that was why he was looking after you last night.”

“No, I haven’t told him,” Peter said weakly but seriously. “I didn’t want him to get scared or upset or anything. Please don’t tell him.” 

Not able to help himself, Tony smiled a little at Peter’s thoughtfulness. “Okay, kid. I won’t tell him, and believe me I do not want to tell May any time soon - at least not without my suit around to protect me.” 

Peter huffed a laugh, which turned out to be a mistake when he started coughing again and Tony had to sit behind him and support him to help him breathe freely again. They ended up staying in that position, Peter leaning back against Tony’s chest and resting his head across his shoulder. 

“You feeling any better?” Tony asked the sleepy teen. 

“Hmm,” Peter replied lazily, eyes closing slowly. “Chest hurts. Head hurts. Feel kinda sick.” 

Automatically, one of Tony’s hands snaked up to Peter’s head, weaving gently through the curls and gently scratching his scalp. His other hand looped around Peter’s chest, trying to soothe some of the pain. 

“Just relax, buddy,” Tony cooed. “I’m here. May will be here soon. Relax.” 

Tony stayed awake this time, listening to Peter’s slightly laboured, rattling breaths as the teen slipped off to sleep again. 

 

***(James/Bucky)***

James didn’t like the idea of being picked up by Happy. He had no issue with the man, but James was impatient and more than capable of making his own way to the Avenger’s Compound, though he understood that it was much more inconspicuous for him to travel with Happy. Still, he didn’t like the suspicious looks Happy was giving him in the rearview mirror. 

“Boss wants you to go up the service elevator,” Happy said as he pulled the car into the basement garage of the compound.

“Okay. Thanks, Hogan,” James said nonchalantly. Instead of heading to the main elevator that was used most often, he headed to the back of the garage and into the barely used service elevator that was only used to transport large deliveries.

The medbay was only a floor above the basement, and despite James’ insistence to visit Peter earlier, he was slightly relieved that he was unlikely to bump into any of his old team mates. The elevator arrived in a large storage room that housed all of the endless medical equipment the Avengers needed on a regular basis. He stopped in front of the door and listened closely for sounds of people outside the room before stepping out into the corridor, absently pulling his baseball cap down to cover more of his face. He followed the sounds of gentle talking and machines whirring to find Peter’s room. 

Peering round the open door, JAmes found a bizarre yet almost heart-warming scene. Tony and Peter were sat on the bed, Peter resting his back against Tony’s chest and dozing with half-lidded eyes. Honestly, this was a little confusing considering Tony was technically Peter's boss, however, James had suspected they had a pretty close relationship due to Peter's excited ramblings about his internship. Though Tony looked pretty uncomfortable with a lanky teenager sprawled across his lap, he was politely listening to May talk about something-or-other while he ate a punnet of blue-berries balanced on Peter’s lap. James was pretty sure he heard May (still in her nurses uniform and looking pretty tired) berate Tony, saying, “I don’t appreciate you using my nephew as a food tray Tony,” before she looked up and finally noticed James.

“James,” May smiled, getting up from her seat next to Peter’s bed and, much to his surprise, throwing her arms around James. James only tensed for a second before returning the hug, patting May’s back. “Thank you so much for looking after him! Oh my gosh, if you hadn’t found him outside the apartment… Oh god, I don’t want to think about it! Thank you so much, Tony told me what an amazing job you did… and… and I didn’t know you and Tony knew each other.”

“Oh yes, uh, _James_ ,” Tony quickly interrupted, looking at James apologetically and imploringly. “I might have let slip we were old… work colleagues ...?” 

With a sigh, James drew away from May. “Oh c’mon, Tony,” he teased good-naturedly, before looking down at the shorter woman before him. By this point, he’d almost convinced himself that May knew who exactly he was. Often he forgot to put his glove on before going round to their apartment and just left his hand in his pocket the whole time. There was also the fact that Peter had called him Mr Barnes that one time despite James never revealing his second name. He even told them war stories at times, though he never expressed which war he’d been a part of. “You really don’t know who I am?” he asked nervously. 

May frowned at him confusedly. “Yeah… you’re James?” she said, obviously not having ever realised James’ real identity. “Am I missing something?”

James looked up at Tony on the bed, silently asking him what to do. Tony just shrugged and nodded before scarfing more blueberries. 

_What’s the worst that can happen?_ James thought as he finally pulled off the black glove he’d had over his metal hand. Thankfully, May didn’t flinch or shriek at the vicious looking appendage, she just continued looking at James in confusion. 

“I know Tony from the Avengers,” James explained. “I used to work with them, and I lived here with them before moving to Queens. My full name is James Buchanan Barnes. Or Bucky for short.”

May didn’t draw back or frown or scream. She just stared, still looking confused. “Bucky… like the Winter Soldier? … Captain America’s friend?” 

“Yeah,” James nodded. “Well, it’s a little complicated. But I’m completely harmless now, I’m not the Winter Soldier anymore and I’d never put you or Peter in danger.”

“Oh, James,” May cried before throwing her arms back around him, causing James to stagger backwards. “I know you wouldn’t. I don’t care if you’re Bucky or the Winter Soldier or whoever, okay? You’re always welcome at our place.” 

James, who was stunned speechless, nodded dumbly and smiled weakly. 

Thankfully, Dr Cho chose that exact moment to walk into the room holding a manilla folder. She paused in the door way, frowning when here eyes landed on James and clearly recognised him. Though she drew a breath as if about to question him, she merely let out the breath as a long sigh and shook her head. “I’m not even going to ask,” she said, looking away and making her way to Peter’s bed. “Okay, I have some more updates on how Peter is doing,” she began in a professional manner, withdrawing papers and images of Peter's chest from her file and laying them on the bed by Peter and Tony’s feet. “I assume you’re all aware that Peter is suffering from Pneumonia which caused him to have such a high fever last night. As Tony knows I did some scans and x-rays of Peter’s chest right when he came in last night and then again about an hour ago. There hasn’t been much improvement in regards to the infection but considering we only started the antibiotics early this morning, that’s to be expected - but he is reacting well to the medicine we’re giving him and we’re confident he’ll recover quickly. In better news, his fever was dangerously high when he arrived last night, which was our main concern as it was causing his body a lot of stress and is what resulted in the vomiting he experienced yesterday. However, he is doing much better now, even though his fever is higher than we’d like, it’s much better than it was.”

James visibly relaxed at the doctors words and stopped listening to the specifics once he knew Peter was going to be okay and was (slowly) recovering. Despite his memories being a bit scrambled, James knew that back in the day, pneumonia was practically a death sentence for some people. He was pretty sure Steve had had it at one point and had been bedridden for a month or two, barely strong enough to move, and doctors had called it a miracle that he survived with all his other ailments as well. 

Now, looking down at Peter still dozing against Tony’s chest, James saw the image of Steve Rogers, young and skinny and sickly. Peter wasn’t Steve, though. Peter didn’t want to be Steve. James knew from talking to May and Peter that Iron Man had always been Peter’s hero. There was a story that always brought May to tears whenever she told it about Peter getting separated from them at the Stark Expo and trying to use his toy Iron Man gauntlet to blast away an attack drone before the real Iron Man swooped in to save him. 

Nevertheless, James felt protective and responsible for Peter in a way that was shockingly familiar to him. The only time these days where James was reminded of pre-super-soldier-Steve was when he was with Peter - not because they had similar personalities or traits, but because James felt so overwhelmingly obligated to just look after and protect Peter from the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Aaaaaaaaaaaaaa.  
> This is shit, I know, I'm so sorry.  
> Firstly, I know nothing about pneumonia, I just typed Peter's symptoms into webmd and the internet provided a diagnosis. I did my best.   
> Secondly, I switch between calling 'James' Bucky and James because I think that it makes sense to call him Bucky from Tony's narrative and then James any other time, I hope that wasn't too confusing.   
> Lastly, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! thank you for the kudos and comments on the last chapter - I honestly love you're feedback so much!  
> Next chapter soon and I'm going to be progressing the plot more, which should be fun!  
> Thank you!!


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: panic attack, illness, slight vomit, medical stuff.

Peter knew he was uncomfortable before he’d even woken up. His chest was painful and tight and indescribably uncomfortable. Something was pinching his arm and there were too many noises. Voices and machines. He tried to take a deep breath and build himself up to opening his eyes and waking up fully, but the air stuttered in his chest, like something was blocking the way and intercepting his oxygen. 

A cough forced its way out of his lungs and up his throat, wet and strangled. A hand touched his shoulder, and Peter forced his eyes open to see Tony standing over him with a worried expression. Memories clicked into place and he remembered James taking care of him while he was sick, but now he realised he was in the medbay at the avengers compound with Tony. He tried to take another breath to ask what happened, but his lungs faltered again and the cycle of pain continued. 

He couldn’t _breathe_ and there was something in his lungs and he couldn’t get enough oxygen and it felt like he was _dying._

Tony had once told him that most of the time, when people have panic attacks, they don’t know that their breathing changes - they notice symptoms of the breathlessness first, like dizziness, nausea, and uncontrollable shaking. But this time, Peter knew he wasn’t breathing right, and that was the whole reason he was panicking in the first place. 

People were saying things to him, and then something was pressed over his nose and mouth and he _didn’t want it_ , it was going to suffocate him, but he was going to suffocate him anyway because there was something in his lungs, and no amount of coughing or gasping was helping. 

The thing over his face was pumping air into his gasping mouth and it felt like a respite from the grasping panic, but it didn’t do much to help him. Despite how much air was given to him, it didn’t help because there was something in his lungs stopping the air. 

The pinch in his arm tightened for a second, and then something akin to warmth spread through Peter. He could feel a hand stroking through his hair, and he could smell May’s favourite perfume and there was a cold sensation in his left hand, like something metal was put in it. But the metal moved on its own and locked around Peter’s fingers.

Peter craned his neck to look down his left arm and saw a metal hand locked in his own, the metal hand belonging to James, who was smiling reassuringly at Peter. May stood beside him, worrying a piece of hair between her fingers and looking anxiously at Peter. Tony stood at the head of Peter’s bed, his gentle hand in Peter’s hair. 

His breathing slowed, though it still wasn’t any easier and he couldn’t breathe as deeply as he wanted without coughing horribly. The coughing didn’t cease and something moved up his throat from his lungs and tried to come out of his mouth, resulting in a horrible gagging, choking noise. Someone removed the mask over his mouth and held something beneath his chin to catch the gooey gunk that dribbled from his mouth. 

“It’s okay, just cough it up.” 

Peter made a noise of disgust as he got all the gunk up into the kidney dish, and he thought he saw Tony smile slightly out of the corner of his eye. The oxygen mask was gently put back over his face and Peter looked up to find Dr Cho was the one responsible. She smiled at him sweetly. 

“We’re just going to leave this on until your O2 stats improve a little,” she explained, tapping the mask delicately. Then she turned to the adults in the room. “Panic attacks can be expected considering the difficulty Peter is experiencing with breathing, but he should be fine with a little oxygen.”

“Y-you’re here,” Peter tried to say to James and May, pulling his oxygen mask back off, but he couldn’t find his voice. All the eyes on him were intimidating and that on top of his sore throat took the words right out of him.

Dr Cho smiled at him sadly at him and excused herself. Tony rustled his hair one last time and took a step back. “He’s all yours to coddle now, May.” James nodded in agreement, released Peter’s hand and stood across the room with Tony. 

“Hey, honey,” May greeted softly, and Peter wanted nothing more than to hug her and be doted on by her, but he was tired and confused and in pain and he didn’t understand how James was so calm about being at the compound, or with his glove off in front of him and May.

“But-but-but James is here, the avengers will see him,” Peter exclaimed hoarsely, shakily propping himself up on the hospital bed. “James is… James can’t be here…. I didn’t tell Tony - Tony wasn’t supposed to know - and I-”

At this point, James and Tony, who’d been pretending not to listen, came back towards the bed at once to soothe the boy. 

“Peter we talked about this last night remember? After I brought you here?” Tony prompted, but the puzzled and scared look on Peter face told Tony he didn’t remember. Peter's memories and sensibilities were lost within the fevered haze.

“Pete, buddy, it’s okay,” James reassured, putting his bare metal hand on Peter’s arm. “I’m just going to avoid people I don’t wonna see, and I don’t mind Tony knowing where I live, I’m sure he won’t tell anyone.”

Tony nodded vehemently. “I won’t, I swear. But you did a pretty good job of keeping him a secret, Pete,” Tony said with a smile. 

“Don’t stress out about it, kid,” James instructed sternly yet tender. “Just concentrate on getting better, yeah?” 

“But - but May,” Peter stuttered worriedly, looking down at James’ very exposed prosthetic arm. 

James laughed a little and smiled. “I told her who I really am.”

“And I’m fine with it,” May rushed to reassure not only Peter, but James as well. “I’m not going to make it weird or try to get him evicted or anything like that.” 

Peter relaxed somewhat at this, sinking back into his pillows as Tony reached forward to snap the oxygen mask back on with a tut of disapproval. 

He was contemplating taking a nap now all that mess was sorted, but he’d only just woken up. Plus he was pretty uncomfortable right now and breathing was strenuous, even with the oxygen mask. 

He let out his frustration with a weak kick of his legs followed by a rattling cough. 

“It’s okay, sweetie,” May cooed as she stroked back Peter’s bangs. “Do you need anything?”

Peter didn’t really know what could help him right now. He really wanted to get out of this medbay and do something. Train or patrol or even walk around. Fresh air would be nice - better than this artificial air from the oxygen mask. 

Sitting up suddenly, Peter swayed dizzily and several pairs of hands reached out to steady him to stop him toppling off the bed. 

“Whoa, what are you doing, kiddo?” Tony asked worriedly as he settled Peter back against the pillows. 

Trying to fight the hands, Peter grunted. “‘Want to get out.” The words were muffled considerably by the o2 mask but everyone got the gist. 

“Nuh uh, Peter, you’re on bed rest for at least a couple of days,” May reprimanded, reminding Peter of when he was little and doing his best to get on her nerves. 

Peter rolled his head across the pillow away from his aunt to show her he was annoyed, but then shivered when his face met a cold patch of pillow. Reaching down to his waist, he tugged at the thin blanket over him and pulled it right up to his chest before snuggling down into the bed, resoundingly deciding that it was much too cold to get out of bed now. 

“Oh, you getting ready for a nap now, kid?” Tony teased. Peter glared at the man, before nodding sleepily and closing his eyes. 

“Okay, honey, you relax,” May soothed, rubbing a hand over his shoulder. “We’ll still be here when you wake up.” 

The last thing Peter heard before he fell asleep again was Tony and James laughing quietly and one of them saying, “That fever’s really messing with him up, he looks like a toddler.” 

***

 

“Hey, stop fiddling,” James reminded Peter for the tenth time since he’d been watching over the boy. Tony had to get drinks and supplies and May was sleeping in a guest room upstairs, but fortunately James had taken a sick day from work so that Peter wasn’t ever left on his own. It had been less than twelve hours since Peter was brought in, and the kid was still a little delirious with fever, hence why he wouldn’t stop fiddling with the tape on his IV. “If you do it again we’ll strap your hands down.” 

“No you won’t,” Peter said dazedly, rolling his heavy head across the pillow. “You love me too much to punish me.”

James barely had time to marvel at Peter’s throw-away use of the word ‘love’ before Peter was coughing again and he had to hand the teen a tissue to spit up mucus into. 

“Ew,” Peter hoarsely commented as he threw the tissue in the general direction of the bin beside his bed.

“Better out than in,” James commented with a smirk. “That shit’s clogging up your lungs otherwise.”

A few minutes passed in silence with James reading some magazine he’d found and Peter fiddled with the hem of his gown. Then, the teen sighed a deep, rattling sigh and threw his head back on the pillows. “I’m bored, James, when can we leave?”

“When you stop sounding like a chain smoker and your fever’s gone down,” he explained patiently, this not being the first time he’d had to answer this question. Peter was very determined that he didn’t need to be in the medbay for someone who’d feverishly mistaken James for Billy Ray Cyrus barley an hour ago. “Tony’s bringing stuff that will hopefully keep you occupied in the mean time and stop you fiddling with the goddamn IV,” James said, a hint of sympathy creeping into his voice despite him leaning across to slap Peter’s hand away from the IV yet again. 

As if by magic, Tony arrived just then with a drinks tray in one hand and a small duffel bag in the other. 

“Special delivery,” Tony chimed as he set his stuff down. “Two black coffees,” he handed one over the James, “one honey and lemon tea, doctor’s orders,” he handed the tea to a frowning Peter, but quickly passed it off to James instead when Peter’s shaking hands threatened to spill the tea, “and in here we have fresh pyjamas, underwear, deodorant, and enough board games to keep you entertained for the whole of your jail-time, kiddo.” 

“I don’t like tea,” Peter whined pitifully, kicking his legs restlessly under the blankets. 

“Hey,” James reprimanded. “That’s no way to thank Tony, is it, kid? What would May say?”

Much to both men’s surprise, Peter suddenly got very tearful and sniffled. “I’m sorry. Thank you, Tony.” He reached over in the bed and pulled Tony into a tight hug. “I love you, Tony.”

At Tony’s frown, James laughed. “I’m pretty sure he told the nurse he loved her before, too.” 

Tony laughed and stroked the back of Peter’s greasy hair. “Okay, buddy, calm down. I’m not mad.” When Peter’s cries continued, Tony sighed. “Pete, buddy, you need to calm down. All this crying can’t be good for your chest.”

It took a few minutes of coaxing, but they managed to get Peter to calm down enough to drink a few sips of tea and finally release Tony from the death grip of a hug. They decided to play a game of cards in the hopes of distracting Peter and keeping him occupied through his discomfort. Peter only managed to make it through one hand before falling asleep and snoring gently. 

“Damn, he had my queen all along,” James moaned as he peaked at Peter’s cards in his limp hand. 

“I have a question,” Tony announced suddenly, surprising James slightly. 

“Fire away,” James shrugged, kicking his legs up onto Peter’s bed and leaning back in his rickety chair.

Tony seemed to hesitate for a second before asking. “Do you want to be called James or Bucky?”

Now it was James’ turn to hesitate.

He supposed for the past 6 months or so he had been James, and only James, but before that he’d been either Bucky or ‘Soldier’ or ‘Asset’ or whatever. James was just the name he’d got used to recently, and he thought the name Bucky would sound funny coming from May or Peter. But Tony had always called him Barnes or Bucky, so maybe James would sound weird coming from him. 

“I think… I think James,” James said at last, nodding his head somewhat proudly. “But, I don’t really mind if you want to carry on calling me Bucky. It’s just… I’ve changed… a lot… and I don’t really think I’m Bucky anymore.”

James’ response was obviously deeper than Tony had expected as the man sniffed awkwardly while examining his cards. 

“Boss,” FRIDAY announced to the room, gaining both men’s attention. “Captain Rogers has entered the elevator and I believe he intends to come and visit Peter.” 

Sharing a mutually shocked and surprised look, Tony and James both jumped to there feet. 

“That’s my que,” James said with a sad smile. “Text me when he’s left.” 

“But where are you going?” Tony called after James, who was already jogging out the door and down the corridor. James did not reply and Tony was left with another conundrum; Peter didn’t have his mask on and Steve was about to walk into the room to visit Spider-man. 

Thinking fast, Tony grabbed the oxygen mask that was beside the bed and gently placed it over Peter’s mouth and nose, hoping it would at least obscure his face a little. Looking down at the still sleeping teen, Tony realised that that was a stupid idea and you could still clearly see Peter beneath the mask. 

“FRIDAY dim the lights,” Tony instructed as he pulled the curtains around Peter’s bed, hoping to cast a shadow on the boy.

There was a tentative knock on the door of the medroom, but it was already ajar and Tony could do nothing to stop Steve coming in.

“Tony? Is this a bad time?” Steve asked somewhat nervously, glancing at the dim lights and curtains. 

Tony moved to stand before the bed and hopefully block Peter from view. “Uh, well, you see, Spidey didn’t exactly bring his Spider-man mask to the medbay with him, and his secret identity gig is fragile as it is…”

“Come on, Tony, I just wanted to check on him,” Steve pleaded innocently as he stepped fully into the room and tried to see past Tony. “Besides, who am I going to tell his identity to, it’s not like I know his name.”

“Yeah, well let’s keep it that way,” Tony suggested somewhat aggressively. What can he say, he was protective over the kid. 

Steve just rolled his eyes slightly in that god-awful disapproving way that reminded Tony how infuriating Captain America actually was - that they were passed the petty arguing stage now, so Tony let it go. “I just wanted to check on him. Is he doing okay?”

With a sigh, Tony relaxed his stance a little and let some of his exhaustion and anxiety show. “He’s doing better than last night, that’s for sure,” Tony said somewhat drily. “But he’s still going to be out of action for a hot second while he recovers. The fever is still kicking his ass.” 

“He’s strong, Tony,” Steve said reassuringly. “He’ll be okay.” 

There was silence as they watched the sleeping boy breathe raggedly in his sleep. But then Steve tensed beside Tony, tilting his head questioningly and peering around the room.

“Was someone else here with you?” 

Tony would’ve smacked his head against the wall if he could. He’d left out James’ cards and coffee and chair on the other side of Peter’s bed. 

“Uh… the kid’s aunt was here… she just went up to a guest room for a nap.” 

That was clearly not a good enough explanation for the Captain, whose eyes still lingered on the steaming coffee cup and the neatly folded pile of clothes on the foot of the bed - more specifically, James’ gym shorts and the _Robocop_ t-shirt Sam got him as a gift last year, both of which Peter had been wearing last night. 

Steve reached out to inspect the shirt. “Isn’t that-”

He was interrupted by Tony rushing to intercept his curious hand and simultaneously accidentally knocking his foot into Peter’s IV stand, causing the line to pull taught and painfully tug the needle in the boy’s arm. Peter grunted and his eyes snapped open, seeing Tony and Steve and frowning before dissolving into coughs.

No longer caring about Steve’s presence, Tony moved forward to comfort the kid through the fit of coughs. 

“Easy, kiddo.” Tony sat the boy up straighter and rubbed a hand gently across Peter’s aching chest. The coughs quickly turned to gags, and Tony was surprised when Cap helped Peter sit up while Tony removed the oxygen mask and collected the mucus and vomit in a kidney dish. 

“Ss-s-sor-ry -” Peter stuttered tiredly once he finished coughing and was laying back against his pillows. 

“If you’re about to apologise right now, kid, I’m going to stop you right now,” Tony admonished. “Just go back to sleep.”

Peter didn’t need to be told twice before closing his eyes and snoring softly a few moments later. For a few moments the two men watched to make sure Peter was sleeping soundly, before relaxing slightly. 

“I… I hope he gets better soon,” Steve said finally. “He looks young.”

“Yep,” Tony sighed. “He does.” 

Steve left a few minutes later, telling Tony to tell Spidey that their Saturday morning training was cancelled until the kid was better. 

With a huge sigh of relief, Tony sunk back into the chair next to the bed and rubbed a hand down his face. “This is a nightmare,” Tony decided, taking in the sick teen before him and texting James that Steve was gone. “None of this can be real. My life is messed up but it’s surely not this messed up.” Tony took Peter’s limp hand and held it tightly, with one finger rested over his pulse point to reassure himself that it will all work out in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi again.  
> Sorry it's been awhile, I've been away with the fam and this chapter was not a smooth one.  
> Also, sorry for dragging this Pneumonia out over so many chapters, but I thought it would be good bonding time for Peter, James and Tony.  
> Let me know what you think and any prompts/ideas/suggestions in the comments.  
> Thank you!!  
> P.s. the panic attack was a suggestion from TariTarts, I hope this is okay - and it also gave me the idea to make the fever meddle with Peter's mind a little, so that was fun. Also the part in which it's said that you don't always notice your breathing change in a panic attack is true, I learnt that from a trained professional, and I just thought it was really interesting considering whenever you read a fic about a panic attack the character is always super aware of they're breathing, but that isn't the case in real life (not shaming any writers who've done this, I know I've done it). However in this story Peter has a panic attack _because_ he can't breathe, so that's why he's super aware of his breathing :)


	9. Chapter 9

In the past week, James had decided that Pneumonia sucks - and he didn’t even have it. 

It was painful to watch Peter cough up goop at all hours of the day and night, have panic attacks when breathing got to difficult, have to wear an oxygen mask on and off, and shiver and sweat due to his fever. 

Dr Cho had originally planned on letting Peter out of the medbay to recover at home after a few days, but when the fever came back full force to bite him on the butt the day before he was meant to be released, she decided to extend his stay. 

James had had to return to work a few days in, but still sneaked into the compound every night to visit, and brought gifts to make up for not being there. One day he made the mistake a bringing a Slushie as a present for Peter with the hope it would help his fever, and though Peter had been overjoyed at the sugary treat, he was not overjoyed ten minutes later when his vomit was blue raspberry flavour. 

“Ready, squirt,” James asked cheerily as he pushed a wheelchair into Peter’s hospital room. It was a week since Peter was first brought to the medbay, and Dr Cho had finally decided Peter was well enough to move upstairs to spend the rest of his recovery in Tony’s suite as long as he kept on top of his meds, didn’t walk around too much, didn’t go outside in the cold air, and took anti-anxiety meds to help his panic attacks, which had become a regular occurrence when Peter woke up and discovered he couldn’t breathe properly. 

“I can walk,” Peter argued grumpily even as he struggled to pull a t-shirt over his head. 

“Yeah, you’re really funny when you’re cranky, y’know,” James teased as he moved to help Peter with his hoodie. Though Peter still had a bit of a fever, Cho was more concerned about a chill setting off Peter’s chest than keeping to boy cool, so they were hoping he’d sweat it out. “You had all your antibiotics?” James asked.

“Yeah.”

“Fever reducer?”

“Yeah.” 

“Pain killers?”

“Yeah.” 

“You peed yet today?”

Peter blushed, but mumbled a “yeah.”

James clapped his hands together happily. “Great. Tony’s making sure everything is set up for you upstairs. FRIDAY is on the look out for any meandering avengers. Let’s get you in the chair.”

Though reluctant at first, Peter accepted James’ help getting off the bed and taking the time to stretch out his aching legs and back before shuffling across to the wheelchair. Once in the chair, James draped a woollen blanket around Peter shoulder’s. 

“You happy to get out of here?” James asked as he took off the breaks and slowly pushed Peter out of the room he’d been restricted to for the past week.

Peter craned his head up to grin foolishly at James in lieu of answering, not seeming to mind the wheelchair so much now he was in it. James couldn’t deny the rush of relief at seeing Peter finally happy and (somewhat) healthy after the terrible week he’d had. Of course, Peter hadn’t liked to let any of his Support Group (which was what Helen had jokingly named May, James, and Tony) see his misery or discomfort - but the panic attacks and constant coughing, not to mention the feverish mumbling and confusion, had clearly warn Peter out physically and mentally. 

But Peter’s recovery had put everyone in a much better mood, particularly Peter. His smiles were less pained and his rough laughs at Tony’s jokes were more genuine, even if every one of them ended in a coughing fit. The upswing in Peter’s spirits when his fever broke had triggered a surge in the moods of his ‘Support Group’, as though they’d all breathed a unanimous sigh of relief. 

And now, Peter was tapping impatiently on the arms of the wheelchair as the elevator took them up to Tony’s suite, fidgeting with the excitement of his new freedom. The elevator stopped, the doors opened and Peter would have jumped to his feet and raced inside if he had the energy, but he simply shivered with happiness as he was wheeled into the master suite of the compound. 

Tony had set it up with mountains of blankets and pillows on the couch, some sort of fragrance coming through the AC, and tissues and tea ready on the coffee table. 

James had just got Peter settled on the couch when Tony marched in with a smile and a back pack over one shoulder.

“Good news, Pete,” he announced spryly. “Happy just picked up all you’re school work from Ted-”

“Ned,” Peter corrected.

“Yeah, whatever. Don’t worry, though, because May spoke to your teachers and everyone is in agreement that your health has priority and you aren’t to stress yourself out about the work, okay? But on the off chance that Miss Trunchbull works at your school, Helen wrote a note as your doctor to excuse you and have deadlines postponed until you’re ready.”

“Who’s Miss Trunchbull?” James asked confusedly. 

“Just an evil teacher from a children’s book,” Peter said, already rooting through the bag full of work Tony handed him and sighing dejectedly. He pulled out a large envelope that didn’t look like homework and opened it to find a cheesy 'get well soon' card. Inside were inscriptions from the whole decathlon team with well wishes and pleads to get better quickly. Even Flash had signed it, although he had just written, _‘Don’t die, Penis Parker. -Flash'_ Someone had obviously tried to cover up the Penis and write Peter instead, but you could still see the original message. 

“Who’s that from?” Tony asked.

“Decathlon team,” Peter replied, trying to hide the card, but failing as James snatched it out of his hands.

Peter saw a frown crease his forehead as he read the messages. “Who’s Flash? And can I punch him in the face?”

Snatching the card back, Peter shook his head, before returning to rummaging through the impossible amount of homework in his bag. “I was dying all week, why am I being punished?”

Two hands reached out to smack him at the same time.

“You weren’t dying, you over-dramatic piece of shit,” James scolded. 

Peter smacked both of them back. “Hey! You can’t speak to me like that, I’m sick. And you can’t hit me, it hurts,” he whined childishly. 

“Shitheads still get sick, shithead,” James replied irritably, fluffing Peter’s hair and causing the boy to squeal and bat his hands away. 

“Unhand me, tyrant! T'is not a fair fight!” 

“Oh my God, shut the hell up you’re giving me a migraine already,” Tony grumbled angrily. This didn’t stop Peter and James, however, who simply continued to hit each other more quietly until Peter had to admit defeat due to a coughing fit. “I swear to God, do you want him back in the medbay?” Tony hissed at James as he rubbed Peter’s back and handed him a tissue. 

Despite this, it was clear Tony was not really annoyed at them. How could he be when James was finally making Peter genuinely smile and laugh?

Peter calmed down a lot after that, looking dejectedly at his full bag of homework and sighing, obviously not feeling up to facing academia just yet - and with the amount of drugs he was on, his clear exhaustion, and the fact that he literally just got out of the medbay, James couldn’t blame him. 

“You don’t have to start working right away,” Tony suggested, obviously having spotted Peter’s internal dilemma as well. 

“It’ll stress me out if I don’t at least start, though,” Peter admitted, scrubbing hands through his hair and down his face. 

Rubbing his hands together in feigned excitement, James leaned across and started rummaging through the bag. “Let’s start with something easy then,” he suggested, knowing Peter wouldn’t rest until he knew he wasn’t lagging behind in his work. “Physics? Tony can help you.”

Blushing, Peter shook his head. “You two don’t have to help if you don’t want to.”

“But we do want to,” Tony insisted, moving closer to get a better look into the bag and withdrawing a crumpled piece of paper. “Spanish vocab? Let’s do this - you’re good at Spanish. Oh, and James speaks Spanish.” 

Peter looked round at James excitedly and expectantly. 

“Well I might be a little rusty,” James admitted. “The cogs in this old thing need oiling,” he joked, tapping his head with a smile, which was simpler than admitting that the languages the Winter Soldier knew where probably in there somewhere, but just squished between ‘Bucky’ memories, mission reports, and last month’s tax returns. 

He was surprised at how much he remembered. Peter was pretty good anyway, even though it was new vocab, he could pick it up pretty easily, but he was still worn out after James tested him until he got everything right. Tony only just managed to get him to take his antibiotics with a mug of tea before he fell fast asleep right there on the sofa. 

Tony and James tiptoed around Peter as he slept, James watching TV with the subtitles on and Tony working on his laptop and leaving the room to take calls. Yet James noticed Tony could not keep still, he kept glancing at James and shutting his laptop off for a few seconds before shaking his head and opening it up again. 

“You planning to murder me or something, Stark?” James joked at last, when his sighing and tapping got too annoying. 

“Huh?” Tony grumbled dumbly. 

“You’ve got ants in your pants - you haven’t sat still in the last hour. Wait - are you breaking up with me?”

Tony snorted and shut off his laptop fully this time. “I honestly didn’t think your sense of humour had survived hydra,” Tony mumbled under his breath.

“Neither did I,” James concluded. “Turns out none of the avengers are very funny.”

They both laughed, but then quietened as Peter stirred and coughed in his sleep, but didn’t fully awaken. After a couple of minutes quietly watching to make sure Peter was still asleep, Tony continued. “I did want to talk to you actually.”

“About Steve?” James guessed, judging by Tony’s awkwardness and hesitance. Tony nodded.

James sighed and sat back on the sofa, running a heavy hand through his long hair. When James didn’t outright protest, Tony continued. “Cap’s really beating himself up about it. For the first few months after you left he was practically begging me and Nat to help him find you. He’d go out for days and only come back in the middle of the night, and we think he was walking around Brooklyn looking for you. Took him ages to cheer up, and he’s still not the same.” James did not say anything, so Tony carried on with a sigh. “I’m not trying to get you to come back - and I’m definitely not saying Steve’s the victim here - I’m just telling you that he is sorry. He misses you, and the team misses you. Hell even I missed you - we’d just got a good thing going on before you ran off.” James snorted at this. “My point is,” Tony said. “If you decide to come back some day, you don’t have to worry about Steve blowing a fuse. We can handle it. The whole team is with you.”

There was silence while James contemplated, only interrupted by Peter’s heavy, still slightly laboured breathing. It was true that he missed the team; he and Sam had grown close in his time at the compound, and James had officially apologised to Tony not long after all the rogues returned to the compound, although Tony was hasty to brush it off and assure James that he knew it wasn’t his fault and he wouldn’t let his temper get the better of him again. (But as it happens, it was actually Steve’s temper that they had to watch out for.) “Thank you, Tony,” James began. “And I’m sorry I left the team. I just had to get away. What Steve said was…out of line, to put it lightly. And it’s hard to move passed it. He’s not a skinny kid in Brooklyn anymore. I’m not ‘Bucky Barnes’.” More silence followed his words. Peter shifted slightly, but then let out a sleepy sigh. “How did you manage to forgive Steve for not telling you that the Winter Soldier killed your parents?”

Tony’s head snapped up to look at him, and James noticed a sadness and residual fear or anger in his eyes, and he wondered whether he’d overstepped a line. But then Tony’s posture relaxed and he reclined on the couch, looking as though he should be in a business suit with his tie undone and a glass of whiskey rather than in sweat pants and a cold cup of coffee. “I don’t know…” he muttered honestly. “I just suppose that for so long I was convinced that Cap didn’t like me, and in the time it took me to realise that he didn’t completely hate my guts and I didn’t completely hate his, we grew pretty close. So I was crushed and … frustrated that he’d kept something so big, so important, from me that I was more hurt than angry with him. And so after Siberia and then he sent me that god-awful flip phone, I tried to see the whole thing from his point of view. He was trying to spare me the grief. And he was trying to spare himself the consequences - which I don’t blame him for. He was protecting you.” A stab of guilt wormed through Bucky at the memory of beating Iron Man beneath his fists with all his might, and leaving him for dead in that bunker. One luck at Tony showed he was feeling a similar guilt. “That doesn’t mean I’m completely over it though. He messed up. And then I found out Natasha knew too and also didn’t say anything - and that shit hurts. Like throwing years of friendship down the drain, after everything we’d been through together. But we apologised and we’ve moved on. It just took a bit of time apart and a bit of time to reassemble our friendships. We’re chill now.”

“Chill?” James snorted, instantly taking all sincerity and meaning out of their little moment. “You’re way too old to say ‘chill’.”

“Says the hundred and one year old,” Tony retorted. 

“At least I don’t look my age.”

A pillow flew at James head, but he caught it and flung it back. 

Unbeknown to the two of them, Peter peaked his eyes open to watch the pair as they squabbled, his mind reeling with all the information he’d just heard, and a plan forming in his head already. 

******

_“So you spied on them?”_

“No!” Peter hissed at Ned through the computer screen the next day, having finally managed to shake off Tony and James hassling him about meds and sleep and food to talk to Ned on Skype in his room, since Peter was supposedly not up for visitors (he’d got a smack upside the head when he’d cheekily pointed out that James was a visitor). Peter had just finished telling Ned about everything he’d heard when he was eavesdropping on Tony and James yesterday when they’d thought he was asleep. “They said it right in front of me, they should’ve known I would listen!”

 _“Not if they thought you were asleep,”_ Ned pointed out. 

“Shush, Ned, this is not the point,” Peter argued urgently. “My point is I think I know how to get Captain Rogers and James to be friends again - when they’re ready of course.” 

Ned’s sigh was audible through the Skype call. _“Dude, I think they just need time apart to realise how much they miss each other - like Mr Stark said.”_

Peter tutted at his friend’s sensible suggestion. “First of all, that’s not what Tony said. He said he and Steve spent time apart and then spent time mending their friendship. It’s not like one day they’ll wake up in a cold sweat and rush through the city into each other's arms.” 

_“That would be cool though, I always thought they’d make a great couple,”_ Ned laughed.

“Ned stop - that’s so weird to think about,” Peter whined, then coughed. “Anyway,” he croaked on, “second of all, I just need you to listen to my plan and say yes.”

_“Peter-”_

“So the plan,” Peter interrupted his friend. “First step is to get them to see each other's side of the argument - that's what Toy did when he and the Captain fell out.” Ned made a noise as if he was trying to interrupt, but Peter rushed on. “Step two is to get them to talk their feelings through with a middle party, maybe Tony, he seems pretty chill about the whole thing. Step three - get them in the same place at the same time. Maybe a mission? An Avengers thing? Oh - maybe Spidey could help, like I call both of them for back up and they’re forced to work together. Am I wishing for crime? Am I wanting to be in so much danger I need Captain America and The Winter Soldier for backup? Nah - no I’m just brain storming. Step four - they leave the mission or whatever and then realise they miss each other and then they start to become friends again slowly, like Tony said. Boom! Problem solved.” As though in victory of his amazing plan (or punishment for his incessant rambling), Peter dissolved into a coughing fit as soon as he was done, painfully gasping for air. 

Ned asked if he was okay, and Peter could only nod as he regained his ability to breathe properly. There was a loud knocking on the door and then Tony’s voice called out. “You okay, Pete?” He poked his head through the door and looked at the red-faced teen worriedly. 

“Yeah,” Peter reassured with a small smile, taking a sip of the glass of water from his nightstand. “Just too much talking I guess.”

“Here,” Tony said, throwing a bag of candies at him, which turned out to be cough drops. “Don’t talk for too long, you should be resting. Say hi to Ted for me.” 

Once the door was fully shut, and Peter had unwrapped and started sucking on a cough drop, Ned leaned in closer to the screen. _“Did he just call me Ted?”_

“Yeah, it’s just a joke at this point,” Peter said. “He knows your name's Ned.” 

_“Tony Stark knows my name?!”_ Ned exclaimed suddenly. _“That’s awesome! But anyway, I was going to say this before Mr Stark came in. But… we don’t know what Captain Rogers and Mr Barnes’ argument was about, so how do you make them see the other person’s perspective when they’re just avoiding the whole subject at this point.”_

“True,” Peter hummed in acknowledgement. “I could probably do some digging though. Tony might tell me if I ask nicely.” 

_“Okay, dude,”_ Ned said sceptically. _“Just focus on getting better right now, okay? I miss you at school, so does MJ but she won’t admit it. Oh, did you get the card from the decathlon team? Mr Harrington made everyone sign it, even Flash, but I tried to scrub out where he wrote Penis. When are you coming back to school?”_

“Yeah, thanks for the card. Dr Cho’s coming to do a check up on Monday, and she said if that goes well then I can go back on Wednesday, but if not then I’ll probably be back next week,” Peter explained dumbly. Although he hated being sick and wanted to go back to school and see Ned and MJ, Peter kind of hoped he didn’t have to go back until next week so he could have more time to finish all the homework and projects he head to do. Even though Dr Cho’s note excused him from school work, he didn’t want to have to use it and get all the annoyed looks from teachers who had to hold back their marking. He knew he was over thinking this whole thing, but school was stressful and being out of school for an extended period of time was even more so. “Oh that reminds me, can you help me with this English essay , I don’t really get it?” 

Ned agreed immediately and helped him write the essay until his parents called him away for dinner. It wasn’t long before Tony called him to dinner too, and Peter quickly finished off his conclusion before heading out into the dining area. 

“Hey, Sport,” James greeted, though he had his jacket, cap and gloves on, which meant he was going out. “I’m heading home for the night, I’ll be back tomorrow afternoon, if that’s okay?” he said, directing the question at Tony who seemed to be serving up some sort of pasta dish in the kitchenette. 

“Of course, you’re welcome anytime you like, just let me know what time you want picking up,” Tony replied kindly - which seemed an odd trait for Tony Stark. 

James smiled broadly, but blushed when he noticed Peter staring at him. “You best be better by tomorrow, Pete,” James warned whilst ruffling Peter’s hair. “The apartment’s quiet without you stomping around across the hall.” 

Peter just smiled in reply and fixed his hair as best he could while waving James goodbye. 

“D’you get some more homework done, kiddo?” Tony asked as he set the plates down at the table and gestured for Peter to sit. 

“Yeah, I did my English essay with Ned’s help,” Peter mumbled into his pasta. 

Tony just hummed and surveyed him closely. “I think you should go straight to bed after dinner.”

“What? No, I wanted to get more stuff done,” Peter protested, looking up at Tony pleadingly.

“Pete, you look exhausted,” Tony commented honestly. “Even if I let you do more homework now, you’d just have to redo it - you’re way too tired to concentrate.”

Truth be told, Peter hadn’t been sleeping well despite his constant fatigue from the pneumonia. Between the coughing and chest pain, Peter found it difficult to find a comfortable position to lie in since his usual stomach sleeping was not ideal. 

“Please, Tony, I don’t want to go to bed,” Peter implored childishly, hoping his mentor would understand. 

Tony stabbed some pasta on his fork while he considered it. “How about you nap on the couch in front of a movie,” he suggested. “Would that help keep your mind off things?”

With a smile, Peter nodded. That was how Peter ended up snuggled under many blankets and tucked up on Tony’s chest in front of the TV watching _The Incredibles_ later that evening. 

 

Meanwhile in Queens, James had just gotten out of Happy’s car a block away from his apartment and was walking the rest of the way home since Happy had complained about missing his favourite show the whole ride to Queens. Since it was still winter, it was dark beyond the street lights and nastily cold outside. James was glad that Peter was staying at the compound for the duration of his recovery, because this chill would not be good for his lungs. 

It always surprised James how quickly the Parker family had taken over his life - considering he's practically spent everyday at the compound this whole week just to keep Peter company, when even a year ago he’d never met the boy before. 

The street was dark and mostly empty except for a few stragglers coming out of shops or walking passed in business clothes after a long day’s work. His apartment building was just around the corner when James heard shuffles and mutters behind him, catching a word here or there. 

“Is that him?”

“I can’t tell, it’s too dark.” 

Looking in a closed stores’ window, James saw the reflection of two men stood outside a small bodega down the street behind him, looking a gesturing at James. Of course, this wasn’t the first time someone had recognised him, but those instances were few and far between and mostly occurred when he forgot to wear his gloves and hat. 

“Do we follow him?” 

James almost turned around when one of the men said that, but didn’t want to let on that he was onto them.

“Let’s just see where he’s heading, then report back.”

Report back? Oh so this was not average stalking - this was organised stalking.

Despite his primal instinct to quicken his pace and lose the men, or duck into an alley and hide, or even turn around and face them - he didn’t want to give them the certainty that it was him. And besides, running from his foes had not ended well in the past. So James maintained his casual pace and continued down the street, intending to send the men on a false trail. 

James turned down the street his apartment was on, but instead of going into the building, he continued straight, all the while checking in reflections of windows and cars to see if the men were still following, which they were. He couldn’t make his getaway obvious, as that would assure them that he was in fact James Barnes. James needed a distraction or opportunity that would throw the men off his scent. 

He took them a long way from his building and into a busier part of town, where it was easier to blend in and go unnoticed. Across the street was a bar, bustling with weekend night-life, loud music, and lots of people dancing and drinking. That sort of place would normally turn James’ away, but tonight it was the perfect place. 

Barely checking the road was clear, James cross the street and strode into the bar like he owned the place. Once inside James seamlessly glided through the throng of drunkards, ranging from college-age to something beyond middle aged. James blended in nicely as he headed to the back of the bar, not lucking over his shoulder, but knowing down to instinct that the men were yet to enter the bar. Following a sign for toilets, James exited the throng and strode down a long corridor leading to sub-par facilities and a fire exit. The fire exit was too obvious and probably watched by surveillance, so James entered the men’s bathroom, which was thankfully empty, and shoved himself through the small window none-too-gracefully. 

James landed on the grimy floor of an alley clearly used as private access to people who lived above the bar and other stores on the street. Sneaking round the side of the bar, being careful to keep to the shadows, James tuned out the noise of music and chit chat to strain to hear if the men were still out front. 

“We’d never find him in there,” one man said dejectedly. “And I’m not waiting here all night for him to come out, it’s freezing.”

“You’re right,” the other admitted. “I don’t even think it was him anyway, why would Barnes go into a place like that, I thought he wanted to lead a quiet life now.”

“It probably wasn’t him anyway, I told you I thought his shoulders were broader than that, and I couldn’t see his hair.”

James, though slightly offended by the shoulder jibe, quietly thanked God for his man-bun that Peter always cringed about, which was currently tucked neatly under his cap. 

“Let’s go, we’ll tell boss it was a dud.” Two pairs of footsteps retreated down the road and out of earshot.

Boss? These guys were working for someone. This was not good. Someone was hunting James down. 

James was jumpy the whole journey home, checking over his shoulder every hundred yards and eyeing passers by suspiciously. Once he was back in his apartment and had checked to make sure there was no-one hiding in the closet, he got out a back pack from under his bed and began stuffing it with clothes, toiletries, some cash, and all the diaries he’d collected since waking up from the Winter Soldier. When he finished he shoved the now full bag back under his bed and sat on his squeaky mattress heavily. 

He should have done that months ago. Everywhere else he’d stayed at since he escaped Hydra he’d kept his things packed up, ready for a fast getaway at any moment. But when he moved to Queens it was different. James had not planned ahead to think of how he’d get away if someone came after him. _When_ someone came after him. But now he realised that if there was ever a time to plan for these things, it was now. The last thing he wanted was to endanger May and Peter. As long as they were associated with James, they were in danger. 

James didn’t want to sever ties with them. The Parkers were the best thing that had happened to him in recent years, and James could protect them from anything that came their way. But he’d need to be careful. 

He still felt safe in the apartment. He still felt safe in Queens. Who’s to say that those two men wouldn’t give up trying to find James after tonight. Maybe their boss would tell them to give up and spend their time being more useful than trying to find a man that didn’t want to be found.

Even if they didn’t give up, James wasn’t too worried. He was the Winter Soldier, he could handle two guys - hell he could handle twenty guys. 

As long as he could protect May and Peter, everything would be fine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long wait!
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm finally introducing a serious plot, which is exciting. I'm still going to fulfil your prompts, but they'll just be correlated to the direction of the fic.   
> I know a lot of you like the sickfic aspect of the last few chapters, but I decided to move it on a bit so I could keep the flow of the story, however if you want I can write up an extra chapter of Peter's time in the medbay if that's what you're craving and either publish it as a oneshot or add it in here - your choice.   
> More plot, more Steve, more irondad, more whump and fluff to come soon!  
> Thank you for reading!


	10. Chapter 10

_**How was school?  
How you feeling? ** _

Peter’s phone receive the texts as soon as the last bell went, and he guessed that Tony had been waiting until exactly 2.45 to send them. 

_Okay.  
Tired I suppose but not bad._

Of course Peter was tired, it was his first day back at school since he’d spent two weeks off with pneumonia. But the classes weren’t bad and the teachers were all nice to him since they knew he’d been so ill. And Flash had only accused Peter of faking the pneumonia once at the start of the day, until he’d gotten closer and seen that Peter was still pale and sickly looking and heard Peter coughing in class (a residual tickle in his throat that he couldn’t seem to clear, but Dr Cho reassured him it was completely normal). 

_**Take a nap when you’re home.  
You need help with homework? ** _

Peter rolled his eyes at Tony’s mother-henning. 

_It’s okay, I didn’t get given too much.  
I’ll nap when I’ve finished the homework._

Stuffing his phone in his pocket, Peter headed out of the doors of the school and spotted in inconspicuous black car that undoubtedly had Happy sat behind the wheel. Tony insisted that Happy picked Peter up from school until he was completely restored to full health to avoid Peter making his own way home in the cold winter air, which could irritate his chest. 

Peter’s phone chimed again as he climbed lazily into the car and said hi to Happy.

_**Make sure you have something to eat and drink when you get home.** _

_I will.  
I’m fine btw so you can stop texting me. I’m sure you’re in an important meeting or something._

_**Not more important than you, Underoos.  
But I am being a little overbearing. My bad.** _

Peter smiled to himself as he shut off his phone, looking out the window and huddling more snugly under his jacket as he watched the cold world go by from the safety of Happy’s warm car. 

It seemed Peter had scared a lot of people by contracting pneumonia overnight, proven by Happy asking him what Peter claimed was eight-thousand times if he was okay at home alone before he allowed the boy out of the car. 

Opting to take the lift, Peter shivered at the memory of stumbling up the stairs the day he got sick and collapsing outside of his front door, wondering what would have become of him if James hadn’t found him and Peter had laid there until morning.

Up in the apartment (which he thankfully had keys to this time), Peter was greeted by a note on the table from May reminding him to eat and drink something and take his meds, and that she’ll be back in a few hours with Thai for dinner. 

Half an hour into his homework Peter’s phone rang, and he almost rolled his eyes at Tony’s helicopter parenting when he looked and saw it was Ned calling him. 

“Hey,” Peter greeted, putting the phone on speaker so he could finish his sketch of his chem experiment at each of the different stages of the reaction they had done in the lab today. 

_“Hey, Peter,”_ Ned responded in his usual friendly way. _“So I wanted to ask you in school today but I know you get annoyed when I talk about things like this in school; but have you been cleared for Spider-man stuff yet?”_

“Nah, not yet,” Peter replied, fiddling with his pencil absently. “Dr Cho says I need to wait until I’ve finished the course of meds since the ones I take in the afternoons are mild narcotics.” 

__“Aw, that's too bad, have you seen that the twitter tag for Spidey is full of people wondering where you’ve gone?”_ _

“Nah, man, you know I don’t look at that stuff, it stresses me out,” Peter explained absently. 

_“Oh yeah,”_ Ned muttered. _“Well it’s mostly positive, a lot of people saying you deserve a break and you’re probably injured or something. Anyway, I was calling because I had a thought about you’re plan.”_

Peter perked up at this, now paying more attention to Ned. “‘The Reuniting of Long Lost Friends’ plan? I thought you said it was ‘invasive’ or something.” 

_“The Reuniting of - what? Dude you have to think of a better name,”_ Ned laughed. _“But yeah I did think it was invasive, I kind of still do, but I’m also heavily invested in the Avengers social lives and a Steve-Bucky reunion would honestly be that best thing that could happen right now,”_ he rambled, his tone turning dreamy as he spoke. _“But yeah, anyway, I was just thinking, doesn’t Karen have the ability to access FRIDAY?”_

Humming in acknowledgement, Peter tapped his pencil against the paper rhythmically. “Not really access, it’s more like they can talk to each other. Mr Stark made sure that it is literally impossible for me to hide injuries, and Karen has to tell FRIDAY every injury I get. It’s cute, they’re sort of AI friends." 

Ned laughed heartily over the phone. _“That sounds like a cool movie. But yeah, I thought you could ask FRIDAY if she knew what their argument was about or if she has the footage saved or something.”_

“Now that is an invasion of privacy,” Peter argued. “But I suppose there’s no harm in just asking.” 

_“Exactly my point,”_ Ned exclaimed. _“And then you can help them once you know what happened.”_

Peter frowned at Ned’s sudden eagerness. “How come you seemed so against my ideas the other day, but then now you’re all for it?” 

_“I suppose I just thought about…”_ Ned hesitated. _“You know, they’ve been friends for like a hundred years and then it ended, I suppose it’s just… sad, right? I mean, we’ve know each other for, what, ten years? What if something like that happened to us?”_

Peter was touched by this revelation, and also more determined than ever to find out what happened between the two supersoldiers. “Ned, listen, I promise nothing like that will happen, James and Captain Rogers have been through a lot, like a war and torture and mind controll and all that shit, and that isn’t going to happen to us.” 

_“I know I just… it’s depressing to think about and… I’ll help, if you want.”_

Peter smirked. “Thanks, Ned. I knew you’d come around.” 

***

It took two weeks for everyone to calm down around Peter, and stop treating him like he’s about to keel over. Peter’s cough had practically vanished and he’d finished his course of antibiotics. Dr Cho finally cleared him for exercise but has advised against crime fighting until the weather has warmed up a little. It didn’t bother Peter too much, since he’s quite enjoyed spending more time with May, Tony, and James when he would have been out as Spider-man. Happy was no longer picking him up from school everyday, and Tony had given up on texting him incessantly when Peter got in trouble for being on his phone in class and for once Peter lectured him for being a ‘worry wart’. 

“I’ve been thinking, Peter,” Tony said one day in the lab, when he’d invited Peter around after school. “If you’re up to it, you can start training with Steve again at the weekend.” 

Peter beamed at him. “Of course, Tony, that would be great.” 

“Hold up kid,” Tony admonished, though smiling at Peter’s enthusiasm. “I think it’s time we tell Steve your identity. I mean, he already saw your face when he visited you in the medbay.” 

“What! I thought I dreamt that!” Peter exclaimed in horror. 

“Nope,” Tony laughed. “He watched you spit up lung-gunk and everything.” 

Cringing, Peter slouched down in his desk chair and buried his head in his arms. 

“Relax, kiddo, he’s seen worse,” Tony reassured him, rolling his own chair over towards Peter’s desk and fiddling with the new web shooters he was working on. “I just don’t really see the point in hiding from him anymore, now the cat's halfway out the bag. I might be good to just be honest with him.” 

It was true. Steve knew his face and had a pretty good chance of guessing his age, and it seemed almost rude to not tell him. 

“Okay, but I don’t want to tell anyone else for the foreseeable future, if that’s okay?” Peter said shyly. 

“Not even James,” Tony asked with a raised eyebrow. Peter rolled his eyes. “What? I’m just wondering why you haven’t told him yet, he wouldn’t mind.” 

Throwing his head back, Peter decided he was too tired to even be having this conversation. “I just don’t want things to be different,” Peter admitted softly. “May doesn’t know either, so when I’m at home I can just be Peter, I don’t have to be spider-man, I can just relax and be normal.” 

Tony frowned. “You can be just Peter here, you know, right,” he said, sounding a little hurt and concerned. 

“Yeah, of course,” Peter corrects himself. “I just mean, it’s different here than at home. And I like that you know that I’m Spider-man, but sometimes it’s nice to pretend that I’m not, y’know?” 

Tony surveyed him for a moment and then shrugged. “You do you, kiddo.” 

*** 

Surprisingly, Peter did actually take Tony’s suggestion to reveal his identity, and showed up to training on Saturday in normal workout clothes and no mask. 

To say Steve was surprised was an understatement. 

“Oh,” was the first stunned word to leave Steve’s mouth. “Uh… Spidey?” he asked, a little uncertainly. 

With a smile, Peter nodded. “Yeah, but you can call me Peter if you want.” 

Steve was somewhat taken aback, though quickly recovered. “Okay, Peter, so long as you call me Steve instead of Captain.” 

“Hmm, maybe I’ll consider a colloquial ‘Cap’,” Peter joked, although he was actually trying not to blush. 

“You’re feeling better, I see,” Steve laughed. 

“Yeah…” Peter sighed, scratching the back of his neck. “I’m sorry you had to see that.” 

“Don’t worry about it,” Steve said casually. “I’m sure it was a worse experience for you than me.” 

Not knowing what to say, Peter chuckled and shrugged, as though playing it off. He followed Steve over to the training mats and stood opposite the Captain, ready to spar. 

“Okay, Peter,” Steve said, saying ‘Peter’ as if he was testing out how it sounded. “I know you’ve been cleared, but after an illness like that and a few weeks out of action you’ll probably be a little rusty and not at full strength yet. Tony mentioned that you hadn’t been back out as Spidey yet, and I think that’s a good idea until it’s a bit warmer and you’re back into the swing of things.” 

Peter nodded, mirroring Steve in raising his arms and spreading his weight evenly on his legs in preparation to fight. 

Steve went easy on him at first, but as it became clear that Peter was capable of taking harder hits, they got back to their usual pace. The back and forth was familiar, yet they both kept trying to catch each other out. Peter matched Steve as he increased the strength behind his hits and was pleased when Steve showed signs of struggling to keep up. 

“Damn,” Steve cursed as he stumbled back from a hit, though he was grinning. He motioned for a time out and jogged to the benches at the side of the room to grab a water. “I’ve missed this training,” he smiled, throwing a water bottle to Peter and uncapping one for himself. 

“Don’t you train with the other Avengers?” Peter asked, taking a swig of his water. 

“Yeah, but,” Steve glanced up at him, “It’s not like this. They have the skill and ability, but none of them are strong like you. It’s fun to spar with you because I don’t have to hold back my strength.” 

There was a pause, in which Peter noticed that Steve had a sombre expression on his face and looked distracted. He supposed that Steve used to train with Bucky for the short amount of time he lived at the compound. It had been a while since they’d got this close to mentioning Bucky during their training, but the look on Steve’s face told him that he was still not over it, or he had still not forgiven himself for...whatever it was he did. 

Considering that he’d only just got to the stage of revealing his name to Steve, it was too soon to ask him about whatever happened, so Peter just nodded sympathetically. “Normally when I’m on patrol I have to hold back. I know most of the people I stop are criminals but I don’t really want to hurt anybody,” Peter admitted. 

“You’ve got a good heart, kid,” Steve commended him, before standing upright and heading back towards the mat to recommence their training. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> all I can say is... I'm so sorry. it's been way too long. School kicked my butt and I've been so busy, but hopefully things will settle now. Also, I've had such bad writers block with this fic, and my solution was to write another fic which was not helpful since I got so stuck into that one, so keep a look out for a new story sometime soon.  
> Please leave comments, I love them so much and I read every one even if I don't have time to reply! Ideas and prompts for future chapters would be much appreciated!  
> Thank you!  
> (Everything was in italics when i first tried to upload, hope I've fixed it)

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading.  
> 


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